A Ragged Army
by Joker is Poker with a J
Summary: Previously The Story of Asylum. Reports of young children going missing has swept through New York City. No clues, no leads to where they are being taken and if they're still alive. Only one girl seems to be attuned to the voices of the missing children…
1. The Dark of the Alley

**Ragged Army**

**Summary: Reports of young children going missing has swept through New York City. No clues, no leads to where they are being taken and if they're still alive. Only one girl seems to be attuned to the voices of the missing children…the problem? Everyone thinks she's insane…**

******A/N: This story was previously titled the Story of Asylum, but I completely re-vamped it. And since it's about more than just Asylum, I re-named it and changed the summary. Enjoy, darlings!**  


**Chapter 1**

_**Manhattan, New York City, August 19**__**th**__**, 1900**_

*_The dark of the alley would cover him from the ones following; at least that's what he hoped. The only noise was the skittering of rats and mice, and the occasional drip from the fire escapes as the rain that had plagued New York for the last week rolled down the metal and fell to the cobblestone ground._

_ He kept his feet light as he dodged passed garbage and piles of old newspapers. He wasn't sure how they had found him so quickly, but he knew one sound would lead them to him and he'd be put back into the place he'd managed to escape from._

_ '_I won't go back._' He promised to silently, '_I can't. I'd rather die._'_

_ Towards the end of the alley was freedom. There, in the light of the street lamp glowed the building that was known to help runaways like him. That is until a figure stepped into the alley, blocking his escape; his salvation._

_ "No!" He exclaimed, for his escape was thoroughly cut off from him. He knew this was the end. The end of the alley, the end of the night; for now he could see the light of the sun rising out of the darkness, and possibly the end of his life. At least how he knew it._

_ "Don't worry, Johnny. We can't accept rebels back, anyway." The voice was harsh, and it sent ice down Johnny's back._

_ The figure raised the night stick high, and brought it down on Johnny's head with a sickening crunch. The building, his one hope, loomed before him; '_Newsboys Lodging House,' a_nd then the world faded to black and with it the light from the rising sun, like a sudden eclipse..._

Asylum Perry sat up in bed. Sweat soaked her sheets and clothes as the last remnants of the dream continued to haunt her sleep muddled brain. She could remember the longing and hope Johnny had felt at the sight of the Lodging House. The very place she resided in at this moment. She could faintly feel the spot on the back of her head throb where the night stick had connected with Johnny's head.

Climbing out of her bed and going over to the attic window, she looked down at the alley across the street.

A figure emerged, glanced around, and headed down the street. Asylum gasped as she noticed the night stick in his left hand. Moving back, she nearly stumbled over her boots.

Regaining her balance, she moved to get dressed and then made her way down the stairs to wake up the boys, the nightmare still in the back of her mind. The fear that curled like smoke in her stomach was the only thing keeping her from running out of the Lodging House and to the alley across the street. She was too much of a coward to face what she knew, deep down, was there.

'_And what if your dream is real?_' She thought angrily to herself, '_Then you really _will_ be crazy._'

"Wake up, boys!" She called. She went along, shaking each in turn, "Wake up, Boots. Skittery, time to sell papes. Fang, Race, time to get up. Quarrel, Snipeshooter, wake up. Bumlets, Mush, you too. Itey, Pie Eater, Dutchy time for work. Blink, I don't care if you went to sleep late, get up. Cowboy, I know you're dreaming of Santa Fe but those papes won't sell themselves."

"Wrong." Jack said, rolling over to meet Asylum's blue-gold eyes. "Ise was dreamin' 'bout somethin' else."

Asylum quirked an eyebrow, "Ahh, dreaming of the lovely Sarah Jacobs?"

Jack reluctantly rolled out of bed, and gave Asylum a look, "It's none of youse business, Perry."

Laughing, she replied, "Of course not, Kelly."

The hustle and bustle of the boys getting up and getting dressed made Asylum smile as she made her way down the stairs to wait in the lobby. It had been almost a year since she had come to the LH, and she was very glad she did. Of course, she had missed the infamous strike but she was very content at being with her boys. Her family.

"Lookin' all dreamy-eyed dere, 'Sy." The familiar Italian accent made her smile.

Turning to glance up the stairs, she met the eyes of her favorite newsie, and her best friend. "Mornin', Racetrack. Sleep well?"

"Great! 'Specially aftah Ise won all of Mush's money!" Racetrack replied as Mush came down the stairs.

Mush glared at him, "Not next time, ya don't! Cheatah!"

Race's eyes narrowed, "How many times Ise gotta tell ya Ise don't cheat? Ise got da powah of luck on my side!"

Asylum giggled, "Sure, Race. Let's go before you two start fighting." She grabbed his arm and pulled him out the door and towards the Distribution Office.

"Y'know, 'Sy, Ise don't t'ink youse really believe me on da whole 'not cheatin' thing.'" Race began, lighting a cigar. "Ise mean, youse nevah agree with me when Ise ask ya ta back me up. Dat last time when Ise kept tellin Skittery Ise ain't cheat and Ise told ya ta tell him, youse said dat we should just stop da game and go ta bed."

Asylum gave him a crooked smile, "That's because I don't know you're not cheating."

Race gave her a wounded look, "But, Ise ya best friend. Ya don't trust dat ya best friend would cheat ta get money off his othah friends?"

"Don't give me that guilt trip, Race." Asylum told him seriously.

"Ha! Youse shoulda seen da look on ya face. Youse looked really worried dere foah a minute!" Race laughed and nearly choked on the smoke from his cigar.

"Nice. That's what you get." She muttered, moving ahead of him to buy her papers. "Fifty papes." She told the guy, putting down her money.

"'Sy! 'Sy! Can Ise sell wit youse?" A voice called out as she gathered her papes.

Asylum turned around to see Fang running up to her. Smiling she took some of her papes and handed them to him, "Sure, Fang. Did you sleep well?"

He nodded enthusiastically, "Yeah, but Ise didn't get ta bed till late cuz Quarrel's snores kept me up."

Quarrel was walking by as Fang said this, and stuck his tongue out. Asylum laughed, "Well, I'll see about getting you some bees wax to put in your ear so you can sleep."

Fang smiled his green eyes bright as they headed towards the barber shop Asylum sold in front of. Asylum ruffled his black hair, and then glanced at the front page for a good headline.

"Dere's nothin' good in dere." Race said, jogging up from behind her.

She looked over and smiled. "No racetrack today?" She asked.

Race shook his head, "Nah, Jacky-boy said dat some of da othah burrahs been reporting newsies goin' missin'. Didn't want ya all by yaself."

"I have Fang." She replied, watching the boy as he skipped ahead a bit.

Race snorted, sticking a cigar in his mouth and continued to talk around it, "Fang? Psh, dat kids lucky if he's eleven. Not ta mention if its big goons, da two of youse tagethah are about equal ta David."

Asylum shook her head at the irony only she saw but replied, "That's not nice, Race." The smile belied her words.*

**A/N: Tell me what you think of the new direction the story is taking in a review! Also, I apologize for it being short. The other chapters are definitely longer! **

**Truly,**

**Joker is Poker with a J~**


	2. Could it be?

**Ragged Army**

**Summary: Reports of young children going missing has swept through New York City. No clues, no leads to where they are being taken and if they're still alive. Only one girl seems to be attuned to the voices of the missing children…the problem? Everyone thinks she's insane… **

**Chapter 2**

*The day passed away swiftly and Asylum found herself at her usual spot in central park. Fang had gone off with Quarrel after lunch and Race did not usually sell the Evening Edition, though he had offered to come. She had politely declined, though the news of newsies and other children being stolen had upset her just a bit but for different reasons. Reasons concerning her horrifying and realistic nightmare.

Leaning back on her favorite bench she lightly tapped her boot on the ground as she contemplated said nightmare. It had begun to rain not long ago and her evening addition papers lay next to her, soaked through and utterly useless to her now. She, too, was soaked to the bone, but summer had yet to be over and it was still warm enough for her to just relax a little.

The rain fell quietly. While she loved the rain, she did miss the pretty sunsets that flushed red and pinks into the sky with the occasional splash of orange and gold. That, and the fact that she absolutely loathed when her boots and feet were soaked through.

Her eyes strayed from the green leaves of the trees to the wet newspapers next to her. The face of the boy on the front page was not familiar but the alley in which his body was found _was_ familiar. Asylum closed her eyes as flashbacks from last night's nightmare assaulted her…_the skittering of rats and mice…the occasional drip from the fire escapes…garbage and piles of old newspapers._ These small details resonated with her, as if the last frame of Johnny's life had been engraved into her memory. The worst part was the dull throbbing she felt when she thought about the night stick smashing into his skull and the sickening crunch she could still hear as if she had been a witness in person.

Shivering, the memory leaving a cold feeling in the pit of her stomach, she stood up. Tucking the wet papers under her arms, she began the trek back to Duane Street. She knew they'd never buy papers that wet back, so she deposited them in the closest alley and folded her arms across her chest, beginning to feel the cold seep in after the sun had set.

Asylum tried to push back the thoughts of the nightmare and focus on her family. She stopped at a shop on 7th avenue and purchased a bit of beeswax for Fang before heading home, feeling herself longing to be in the warmth and noise that was her newsie family. Sometimes she almost couldn't believe that the darkness that was her past was far behind her, that she had the future stretched out in front of her and the backing of all her boys. Absentmindedly, she reached under her hair to the back of her neck and itched at the number one that had been branded into her skin every year from the time she was six till she turned sixteen. Catching herself, she dropped her hand and pushed away the memories that came when she thought about her mark. There would be no wallowing, no pity party. She had her life and that in and of itself was a miracle under the circumstances.

Quickening her pace, she hurried through the streets only breathing a sigh of relief as the Lodging House came into view. That is until she came to the alley across from it and found herself abruptly stopping.

All at once, images assaulted her. _Cold, dark cellar, iron bars, dripping water, and foul smells. Coughing, crying and the scuttle sound of rat nails against stone. _

She grabbed her head and pushed away at the sights and smells that assailed her. There was nothing she hated more than these moments, though none had ever echoed inside her heart and reached to the depths of her soul as this.

Tears began pouring down her cheeks and she stumbled back, away from the alley. "No." Asylum murmured, trying to mentally force the images from her mind. "Stop!" She shouted as her foot found the edge of the sidewalk and she reeled backwards. Her back hit the cobble stoned ground, snapping her head against the ground.

Footsteps rang against the stones and stopped inches from her, "Asylum!" Race's voice exclaimed as he scooped her up bridal style. "Asylum, are you alrigh'?"

The dark haired girl gave a small moan as he carried her across the street and up the steps to the Lodging House door.

"Race, dis feels too familiar foah comfort." Mush called out, as soon as Race came in. The Italian shot a glare at the boy and continued up to the bunk room, only silently agreeing then that this was almost like what the educated folks liked to call 'déjà vu.'

"Catchya self a doll, aye, Race?" A voice asked from the poker table as Race stepped in with Asylum cradled in his arms.

He glanced up and met the Brooklyn King's eyes. "Nah, Spot. It's one of our newsies. Hey, Jack!" Race called, laying Asylum on the closest bed.

"Whatsa mattah, Race?" Jack asked, coming out of the washroom. He rushed over when he saw the girl, "What happened?"

Race ran a hand through his hair, glanced over at the poker table where the King of Brooklyn was sitting and pretending as if he wasn't interested and lowered his voice, "Ise went out foah a smoke and she was stumbling back from da alley across da street. Ya know da one dey found dat kids' body in dis aftahnoon? She muttered, 'no' and 'stop' and den she tripped ovah da curb and fell an' hit her head."

Asylum let out another groan and sat up nearly hitting her head on the bunk above her, "Race?"

Both Jack and Race turned back to her as Fang came running over, "Asylum! I beat Quarrel in marbles!" His grin faded slightly and he cocked his head, "What's da mattah?"

She gave a small smile, "That's wonderful!" Wincing, she threw a look at Race and shook her head slightly to let him know not to say anything, "Nothing's wrong, Fang. I'll be just fine." Ruffling his hair, she stood up, "Run along, I have to talk to Race and Jack."

As soon as Fang was out of ear shot, both Jack and Race turned to their only girl newsie, "What happened out dere, 'Sy?"

Gritting her teeth, she looked away from the two pairs of concerned, brown eyes only to meet a pair of familiar, cold silver-blues across the room. A bolt of electricity ran up her spine, making her stiffen. _Could it be?_ She wondered silently as she glanced away quickly, "It was nothing…I'm just tired."

Asylum tried to go between them to head up to her attic room when Race caught her hand. "'Sy, I'm ya best friend. Youse can tell me."

Her eyes immediately strayed to the ones across the room. No look of recognition flashed in their depths and she mentally kicked herself. Of course he wouldn't remember her, but she remembered him. It was without a doubt the same boy from so long ago, she'd recognize those eyes in the dark. She shook her head, "I can't. Not now. I'll talk to you later."

Hurrying from the room, she quickly climbed the stairs to her small attic space and crawled onto her mattress to curl up into a ball. Her body started to quake slightly as everything began to settle around her.

"'Sy?" A small voice asked and Fang's head appeared followed by his small body. He was only eight but could steal any woman's heart with the crooked smile he was famous for. Not to mention his large green eyes and jet black hair.

"Fang, what's wrong?" Asylum asked at once, sitting up.

He came over and crawled onto the mattress with her, snuggling close, "Nothin'. Race and Jack looked worried and you ran out of da room. I wanted to make shoah you was alright." He glanced up with those inquisitive green eyes.

Asylum smoothed down his hair, "I'll be fine, Fang." Thinking fast she asked, "Who was the blue-eyed boy down there?"

Fang gave a toothy smile, "Spot Conlon. Leadah of Brooklyn. He makes da othah boys noivous."

She chuckled at his smile, "I've heard of him. Never knew that was him…" She trailed off.

"Do ya know him?" Fang asked, curiously.

"No." Asylum replied, adding silently, _not anymore_...

They lay there for a while in silence and suddenly Fang gave a wide yawn, "Can Ise sleep up here with you, 'Sy?"

Asylum thought it over, "Yes, but only for tonight. I got you some beeswax so you'll sleep in your bed next to Quarrel tomorrow night, alright?"

The boy nodded his head enthusiastically and promptly fell asleep while Asylum took awhile longer. Though the boy probably thought it was she that comforted him, tonight she knew it was the other way around.*

**A/N: Thank you for the reviews! I know I promised longer chapters. They DO get longer. Eventually. But, I figured a fast update compensates, no? Hope you enjoyed. Reviews are lovely!**

**Truly, **

**Joker is Poker with a J~**


	3. Spot's a bettah fightah

**Ragged Army**

**Summary: Reports of young children going missing has swept through New York City. No clues, no leads to where they are being taken and if they're still alive. Only one girl seems to be attuned to the voices of the missing children…the problem? Everyone thinks she's insane… **

**Chapter 3**

*Asylum woke with the faintest light that managed to seep in through the rain she could still hear pattering on the roof. She had slept dreamless and deeply. For that she was thankful. Softly, she nudged Fang, "Fang, hun, wake up. Go wake the others while I dress."

The boy gave a yawn and sleepily went out the door and down the steps. Asylum pulled herself off the bed and began to slowly get dressed. The noise of the boys' downstairs comforted her. A slight tap on the door startled her, "Yes?"

"Are you decent, 'Sy?" Fang's voice asked tentatively.

"Yes." She replied, running a comb through her wavy, brown hair.

Fang came in and sat on the bed, watching her. "Spot stayed da night." He said simply, watching her for a reaction.

Tossing the comb to the side, she stood, "What say you and I be the first at the distribution office?" He might not have recognized her yet, but who's to say he wouldn't if he saw her again?

He smiled cheekily and took her hand. "Alrigh'."

They headed down the stairs and were nearly out the door when Race called out, "'Sy?"

Asylum stopped, "Yes, Race?"

He jogged lightly down the stairs, "Gonna sell wit'out me?" He asked, giving her a hurt look.

"I hardly need a baby sitter, Race."

Race threw an arm around her shoulders, "We tawked about dis yestahday, 'Sy." He began as they walked down the wet sidewalk, "Jack don't want youse two sellin' wit'out a lil' man protection."

Asylum snorted, "And I get the gambler? He couldn't have given me Mush?"

Race rolled his eyes, "Dat hoit, doll. Ya know we're best friends. And I'ma bettah fightah den you give me credit foah." With that said, he pulled out a cigar and lit it.

"Can ya fight with a cigar in your mouth, Race?" She asked, giving a cheeky smile as she walked in front of him to get in line at the distribution center.

The Italian boy sent her a glower, "Wit' dat mouth, Asylum, youse bettah hope ya don't get kidnapped."

"I don't plan on it." She murmured.

Race glanced around, but Fang was over talking to Quarrel, "Ya gonna tell me 'bout last night?"

She dipped her head down, "I want to. But, it'll just reinforce my nickname."

He rolled his eyes, "Ya nevah had a problem with ya nickname befoah."

Asylum shrugged and folded her arms across her chest. It was still raining and today was much colder than it had been yesterday. She'd have to start saving for a warm winter coat as her old one had fallen apart at the end of last winter. Luckily, she had gotten Fang and Quarrel ones that would last another year or two.

"Maybe it bothers me when I think it's true." Her tone was sharper than she meant it to be.

"'Sy, ya know we don't care about dat. If we did, ya wouldn't be here." He pulled her into a hug, "Tell me about last night."

Biting her lip, she pulled out of the hug and moved up to buy her papers, "Seventy-five, please."

The sweet old man at the counter smiled, "Seventy-five foah da pretty goil." He winked as he handed her the paper and she forced a smile.

Race got his and turned back, "Ya usually only get fifty."

"Well, I had to toss my evening edition because of the rain and I need to get a warm coat for the winter." She told him, looking over the front page.

"Race! Asylum!" Jack called out, heading towards them with Brooklyn next to him.

"Yeah, Jack?" Race asked, throwing a look to Asylum.

"Hey, I know ya like ta sell wit' Asylum but I'm gonna have Spot here sell wit' 'er taday, is that fine?" Jack glanced at Asylum, giving her a look that clearly showed he had no choice.

Race's face turned red as he glanced at Spot, but he only nodded and turned to his best friend, "Talk latah?"

The girl nodded and turned to Jack as Race headed away to Sheepshead, "I guess I'll deal. Can I ask why?"

Jack ran a hand through his hair, "I know you know about the disappearances and I just don't wanna see nothin' happen to youse and Fang."

"But why Spot and not Race?" She shot a glance at Spot, who had been silently staring at her the entire time. It made her want to fidget and squirm but she squashed those feelings down.

"Spot's a bettah fightah." Jack said simply, and Asylum silently agreed as she tried to push down thoughts of the past. The Cowboy then glanced at Spot. Taking her elbow, he pulled her out of ear shot of Spot and said in a low voice, "None of his boys have gone missing. You're the most vulnerable and he's in town so Ise figured he can protect ya foah a day. You'll have Race back tamarrah, alrigh'?"

She simply nodded and they turned back to Spot.

"Hello, I'm Asylum." She told him shortly and stuck out her hand.

He shook it slowly, "Spot Conlon."

Pulling her hand away, she pushed away the butterflies in her tummy. "Nice to meet you." Glancing around, she spotted Fang and waved him over.

At once the boy was by her side, "Ready, 'Sy?" he shot Spot a distrustful look.

Asylum hid a smile, "Yep. Spot here is going to be selling with us, today."

"Why isn't Race?" He asked, cocking his head questioningly.

Ruffling his hair, she started walking toward their selling spot, Spot falling into step on one side, Fang on the other. "He's going to the tracks."

The eight year old grumbled but other than that the walk to the barber shop they sold in front of was in silence.

"I'll be right down dere." Spot told her and walked away before she could reply.

Sighing, she turned to begin selling before the papers could get too wet. Fortunately, the rain was only a light mist this morning. Asylum passed a couple papers to Fang and watched as he ran up the street and sold them to a few older ladies. Smiling, she called out a headline only slightly improving it and managed to sell ten in only a couple minutes. Most people were interested in the reports on the missing children, though the children were sweatshop workers or newsies. It still seemed a big deal.

Spot finished selling papers a lot quicker than her and ended up leaning on the wall near her to wait while she finished up. Handing the last pape to a gentleman she always sold to, she asked him how being police chief was with all the missing children.

"Not good. There's no leads, no pattern of children. Boys mostly but a few girls. They're of all ages, too. It doesn't make any sense." He ran a hand through his thinning hair.

"What about the boy they found on Duane Street? Any connection?" She asked, glancing at Spot who had gotten closer to hear the conversation.

The police Chief, whose name tag said, 'Howard' furrowed his brows, "I hadn't thought about that. What makes you think they're connected?"

Asylum shrugged, "Newsies are going missing. He was found across the street from us, but he isn't familiar to any of us. Maybe he was trying to get away from the kidnappers?" Her instincts were telling her this was true, but Howard shook his head.

"There's no evidence of a connection. But, I'll look into it. Thank you, Asylum. You have a good day, alright?"

"Yes, sir. You, too." He strode on down the street and she turned to Spot who was suddenly next to her.

"How long have you been a newsie?" He asked, curiosity alighting in his silver-blue eyes.

"A year in a week." She told him, trying not to think about where she was this time last year and glancing around for Fang. "Fang?" She called out just as he came jogging up the street. He gave her a winning smile.

"Food?" He asked.

Nodding to him, she turned toward Tibby's and both boys once again fell into step on either side.

"How's come I nevah met ya befoah dis?" Spot asked, tapping his cane as he walked.

Asylum shrugged, not willing to say that she had actually avoided the guy at all costs. "I usually sell the evening edition." She had heard plenty, though now that she knew who he was she couldn't quite believe all the stories she had listened to compared to her own knowledge of him.

He grunted, but remained silent as they came up to Tibby's. Fang ran ahead into the building and joined the table of younger boys. Spot grabbed the door and ushered Asylum inside and to a booth near the window. "Ya shiverin'." He stated, sliding in across from her.

Shrugging, she picked up a menu, "Its cold and wet outside. Of course."

He studied her and then picked up his own menu. An awkward silence descended and Asylum shifted uncomfortably. The things she had heard about 'Spot Conlon' would put her on edge except she couldn't get the picture of how she knew him out of her head. _Though, that was a long time ago_, she reminded herself.

She had never wanted to deal with him before now based on the things said about him nor had any of the Manhattan boys wanted her to be introduced to him. Little did they know, or even she know before last night, that she had known this Brooklyn King long before anyone had ever heard about him. Inwardly, she bristled at him as she began to remember some things from her past and most especially his promise to her.

It definitely looked liked Spot was bothered he hadn't been introduced to her sooner. She wondered if his 'birdies' had reported to him that Manhattan had a girl newsie and decided that they probably hadn't. That was interesting in and of itself and she wondered what Spot would do when he arrived back in Brooklyn and who he would blame.

When the waiter arrived, she ordered a cheap meal and glanced over to make sure the smaller boys were eating. The only one who had no food in front of him was Fang. "Hang on." She murmured to Spot and went over to Fang. "Why aren't you eating?" She asked him quietly, crouching down next to his chair.

He looked nervous, "I'm not hungry."

"Fang." She deadpanned, because they both knew he was always hungry.

He frowned and looked down at the floor, "I wanted ta save money and get you a warm coat."

She stood and waved a waiter over and ordered him roast beef and mash potatoes and turned back, "You are not starving yourself to get me a coat. Let me worry about it, alright?"

"But you saved all winter to buy all of us boy's coats." He defended himself.

She pursed her lips, "I don't want to hear it. Eat your food and if I see you starving yourself again for my benefit I'll paddle you in front of your friends."

Fang glared, "No, you wouldn't, 'Sy."

She snorted, "Don't argue with me, boy." She pulled his hat over his eyes and turned back to her table.

She glanced back to see him stick out his tongue. Resisting the urge to stick hers out at him, she took her seat and glanced up to meet Spot Conlon's eyes.

"Why do dey call ya Asylum?" He asked, as their food arrived.

"Because I'm crazy." She told him simply making him choke on his first bite.*

**A/N: Woot! Thanks for the amazing reviews, guys! And all the hits ^.^ How exciting! I know this chapters a little blah, but I need these kinds of chapter to lead up to the juicier bits, of course! I'm writing some of it now and man, oh man is it getting gooood! Okay, I'll stop teasing you all! Hehe, hope you enjoyed! Please review and let me know how I'm doing!**

**Truly,**

**Joker is Poker with a J~**


	4. I don't cross the Brooklyn Bridge

**Ragged Army**

**Summary: Reports of young children going missing has swept through New York City. No clues, no leads to where they are being taken and if they're still alive. Only one girl seems to be attuned to the voices of the missing children…the problem? Everyone thinks she's insane…**

**Chapter 4**

*"Ya don't seem dat crazy ta me." He replied, once he had stopped coughing and had drunk a long swallow of water.

"That's because you don't know me." Was her cryptic answer.

He snorted, "Ya are odd, though."

Tossing him a blank look, she glanced up as Race came strolling in, "Heya, 'Sy. Spot."

Spot merely nodded as Race slid in next to Asylum, "How was sellin'?" He directed the question to his best friend, ignoring Spot.

"Fine. I talked to Howard. He says the bulls have no leads to the missing children." She shook her head in dismay and took a bite of her roll. "How was Sheepshead?"

Race shrugged as he gave his order to the waiter. "Ise t'ink it's da mayor. Someone who can pay da bulls off." He said, thoughtfully and shot a wink at Asylum.

Spot rolled his eyes, "What would politicians want with some raggedy kids? I'm thinkin' it's a gang of some sort." His gaze darkened slightly.

Asylum shifted her eyes away from the two boys, aware that Spot was thinking along the lines of their shared past, "Maybe. Maybe not. It could be the government, it could be anyone. There's no leads, Race. Nothing to connect anyone to anything about these kids." _Except maybe me_, she thought sullenly, the images that resonated from her visit to the alley making her draw in on herself.

Finishing her plate, she shooed Race out of her way and stood up.

"Where ya think ya goin'?" Spot asked, raising an eyebrow.

"I told you I sell the evening edition. It'll be coming out soon." She glanced at the clock, "I gotta go."

Spot grumbled, took one last bite and stood, "I'm responsible foah ya. I'm comin'."

"I can go if ya wanna head back to Brooklyn." Race said, starting to shovel his food in his mouth.

"Nah, I'll just head back aftah I bring her ta da lodgin' house. You enjoy ya meal, Race." Spot lifted an eyebrow sardonically before taking Asylum's elbow and leading her out of Tibby's.

Rolling her eyes, she pulled her elbow from his grasped and felt her insides shiver at his touch. Crossing her arms tightly across her chest, they headed to the distribution center in silence. Every memory containing the boy next to her started to flare up in her mind. How did he not recognize her at all? Had she changed that much? She supposed that maybe she had changed. No longer was she as arrogant or fool hardy, they had managed to break her she knew. He hadn't changed, though. If anything he had gotten away just in time, though maybe he never would have been broken as she had been.

Biting her lip, she tried to block out the images that began to plague her mind as thoughts of her past were dredged up. How dare he find her, not know her and bring up memories she wished she could bury? Shaking her head, she let out a long sigh as they got in line.

"Have we met befoah?" He asked suddenly, cocking his head to the side.

Gritting her teeth, she turned away, "All you do is ask questions. Aren't you tired of it?"

He tapped his cane, "Nah. I like knowin' t'ings."

She glanced at him, only to see the key that hung around his neck, "What's with the key?" Asylum asked, though she had an idea as to what it was, or, more importantly, what is was _not_ to.

"I don't like tawkin' about it." He muttered, meeting her blue-gold eyes. She quirked an eyebrow.

"You can ask questions but I can't?" She turned before he could reply and put her money on the counter, "Twenty-five, please."

Once she got her papers, she waited silently for Spot. "We sellin' in the same area?" He asked, putting the papers on his shoulders and holding them there with one hand.

"No. I go to Central Park for the evening edition." She murmured, heading in that direction.

"Ya evah been to Brooklyn, doll?" He asked as they walked.

Her eyes darkened, "I don't cross the Brooklyn Bridge."

"Scahed of bridges? It ain't gonna fall with ya on it." He chuckled.

Looking away from him, she shrugged, "I crossed it once and swore I wouldn't again. I don't wanna talk about it."

"Fair enough." He said, quietly. Pulling out a cigarette, he put it between his lips and deftly lit it in one smooth motion. The small red cherry glowed brightly as he inhaled.

They arrived at central park and began to sell their papers. Asylum finished close to sunset and looked longingly at her favorite bench. She wished it wasn't raining, that she could watch the sunset colors wash across the sky but she also didn't want to keep Spot around longer than he should be. Eventually, he would realize how he knew her. Sighing, she turned from the bench and walked over to Spot, "Ready?"

He nodded silently, put his cane through his belt loop and shoved his hands in his pocket.

Though silence descended between the two it felt a lot more natural than it had earlier at Tibby's.

Suddenly, he spoke up, "Ya nevah answered my question. Have we met befoah?"

Asylum didn't want to lie, but she didn't want to bring things up that should be long forgotten. So, she told him the truth, "Does it matter? Does it change anything?"

"Maybe." Was all he replied with, but he let her drop it.

When the lodging house was in view, she could feel herself speed up slightly. The lodging house would forever be her sanctuary, she knew. It was the one place she had always felt truly protected, not to mention it was on the very front steps of the building that Race had found her nearly dead almost an entire year ago. From that moment on, she had forever been changed; she had been given this lovely second chance at life in this large, safe building with wonderful boys who treated her like a beloved sister. It was almost more than she could take, some days. So many misfits that got along most of the time and had so much love to share with one another even though most had been through hell and back.

Reaching the front steps, she turned to Spot, "Thank you. Be careful on your way back to Brooklyn. I hardly think the Brooklyn boys would let their leader be taken lying down."

He smirked arrogantly, "No problem, dollface. I can guarantee no one's takin' me anywheres. Been dere, done dat." A surprised look passed through his eyes, as though he hadn't meant to say that last bit.

Asylum understood more in depth to that than he realized, but she'd never let him know. "Alright, well…good night."

"Good night." He replied as she walked up the steps and into the lodging house. She turned around and watched him walk away, down the street and out of sight.

"Ready ta tawk?" A voice asked behind her, startling her.

Putting her hand on her heart, she turned to Race, "That was cruel. You scared the life out of me."

"Deah me, I hope Ise didn't scahe da life out of ya." He said, draping an arm across her shoulders and steering her towards an empty, secluded corner. "Now, 'Sy Ise want ya ta tell me everything."

She cocked an eyebrow, "Maybe not everything, Race…"

He looked directly into her blue-gold eyes, "Why not, 'Sy? What can't ya tell me?"

She shook her head, "I know you've boys have had it rough and I'm not saying mine trumps yours, but it's something I don't think you could handle. Not now, anyway."

Taking a seat on the chairs in the corner, Race gave a nod and stuck a cigar between his lips, "Awright." He said around the cigar, "What happened yesterday?"

Asylum took a breath and let it out slowly, "Actually, it started the night before last…"*

**A/N: LOOK! I updated two days in a row! I know it's not much, but I just finished writing Chapter 12 and damn...I felt like I should definitely update and since I did it so fast you'll all review, yeah? Thanks for reading, one review wouldn't hurt, would it?**

**Truly,**

**Joker is Poker with a J~**


	5. I gave my heart away a long time ago

**Ragged Army**

**Summary: Reports of young children going missing has swept through New York City. No clues, no leads to where they are being taken and if they're still alive. Only one girl seems to be attuned to the voices of the missing children…the problem? Everyone thinks she's insane… **

**Chapter 5 **

*That night for the first time in six months, she began having nightmares about the time before she was a newsie. Everything was so vivid as if she was actually back there. She felt the hopelessness start to descend on her heart because she knew without a doubt that if she were to ever wind up back, there was no escaping a second time.

Everything that she had forced down, all her instincts that had been developed had been locked away and she could suddenly feel them as if they were pounding on the door demanding to be released. Suddenly, through the nightmare land of her subconscious, she felt a hand on her shoulder. Without actually thinking the door that had been locked so tightly shut abruptly broken open and she lashed out, grabbing the wrist of the hand that had touched her and using her body weight, still only half conscious, she brought the person flying over her body and landing on the other side of her mattress on the floor.

"Oof!" exclaimed the voice to the person she had attacked. This one syllable brought her from her dreams and she sat up hastily.

"Race?" She asked in concern, peering through the darkness, "What are you doing there?"

"Jesus, 'Sy, ya t'rew me across da room." He stood and rubbed his shoulder, "What da hell were ya dreamin' about? Ya screamed a few times and Ise came up ta check on ya only ta be t'rown!"

"I'm sorry, Race! I was half asleep. I didn't know it was you." She hung her head slightly but glanced up worriedly at her best friend.

Rubbing his shoulders he gave a wryly smile and came over to sit on her bed, "It's alright, though I'm t'inkin' of taking back dat comment of you being weaker den Davey."

She smiled back, but stayed silent as she bit her lip wondering what to say. They had gone to bed late after their talk and it was in the middle of the night. Both of them had to get up early to sell.

Slowly, he reached out a hand. Though she usually didn't mind the occasional arm tossed around her shoulders, rarely had she let anyone touch her tenderly. But, she trusted Racetrack. Didn't she? They had been best friends since the moment she had awoken after they found her. She had been asleep, healing, for nearly three weeks and he had helped her get back on her feet. Exactly as if he was the big brother she never had. They had connected almost instantly.

Placing the hand against her cheek, he brushed away the tears she didn't know had fallen with the pad of his thumb, "Ya alrigh', Asylum? Ise haven't hoid ya scream like dat in a long time…"

Nodding, she took his hand from her cheek and held it in her own, "Yeah, I'll be alright. Thank you, Race…would it be weird if you just stayed here till I fell back to sleep? I understand you have to get up early…" She trailed off.

He chuckled softly, "Lay down, 'Sy. I'll be here."

Snuggling back into the sheets, he watched her close her bright eyes and almost instantly drifted off to sleep. She murmured sleepily and then her breathing went even and the quietness brought back memories to his mind of the days after she had first come to the lodging house. Her form had been as still as a corpse, then. Race hadn't been able to help himself to check on her every hour to make sure she was still breathing. Which had brought to mind painful memories at the time. The doctor had made it clear she wouldn't live, but something inside Asylum had kept her strong and alive.

Softly, he brushed a strand of her dark hair from her face and watched her. He knew the boys tease him incessantly; they all thought he was in love with her. But, it wasn't like that; it had never been like that. There was a flame that burned in her eyes that reminded him every day of his younger sister Karissa, who had died when he was just eleven and she was only nine, right before he came to be a newsie.

He often imagined Rissa would have been just like Asylum had she survived the fever that had cut her life short. The smallest smile flickered on his face for a moment, remembering Rissa with her own dark hair, but her eyes had been big and brown. She had been the liveliest little girl before she had gotten sick, but the fire in her eyes had burned bright until the very end when it seemed just as she was getting better a big wind blew it right out.

The day his sister had died was painful to think about. He had not only lost her, but his older brother, as well. Blaine had been seventeen and had gone near mad when their little sister had died. He was gone before she had even grown cold and Race hadn't seen him since. So, since it had been only the three of them since their mother's death two years prior to Rissa's he found himself in a day all alone and so he had joined the newsies.

Race blinked back tears as he felt his eyelids begin to grow heavy. Lying down gently so as not to jostle the girl, he closed his eyes, gave a wide yawn and just as quickly as his best friend, he fell asleep.

Asylum woke to a knocking on her door. Her eyes opened and she glanced around taking in the fact that Race was lying back to back next to her snoring softly. Rubbing her eyes, she stood up and went to the door, opening it slightly, "Yeah, Jack?" She murmured.

"How ya doin'? I sent Race up last night ta check and it seems he nevah came back down." He quirked an eyebrow.

She smiled ruefully, "Nothing happened, Jack. Things between Race and I aren't like that." She glanced behind her at the sleeping boy and Jack looked, too.

"Ya shoah? I won't hesitate ta soak da bum if he touched ya inappropriately." He reached out and pulled her into a hug.

She stiffened slightly, but patted his back gently, "I'm sure. Race is like my big brother and as much as you guys tease him, he sees me as a sister. Besides," She pulled back and looked away from both him and her best friend, who's snoring, had stopped and she had the idea that he was lying awake, listening, "I gave my heart away a long time ago."

It was silent. When she had first come to the lodging house she had been bloodied, bruised and completely battered. Not to mention raving mad about things no one understood. No one had known her name, not even when the blood had been cleared and the bruises had begun to heal. So, they dubbed her Asylum and she added a short last name and never was anything brought up about the time before she came. Not by her, and certainly not by the boys who had, though they didn't really know her at the time, been terrified that she wouldn't make it.

"Well," Jack started, scratching his head, "I guess wake him up and start gettin' dressed foah sellin'."

She nodded and walked over to Race's form as Jack turned around and went back downstairs, "Race. Stop pretending to be asleep." She wacked him lightly on the head.

"I wasn't pretendin'." He said, sleepily rolling over and giving her a smile.

"Sure." Was all she said, walking over to her pile of clothes and rooting around for a decently clean pair of trousers and shirt.

"Who did you give ya heart away to?" He asked, softly as he stood and headed towards the door.

Sighing, Asylum picked out her clothes and turned away, "His name was Ryan." She couldn't tell him anymore without lying and she didn't want to do that to him.

Race nodded and continued down the stairs, and she thanked her stars that he didn't ask anything else. Though, she was sure he noted the past tense of her statement. Quickly getting dressed, she grabbed her hat and headed down to the lobby to wait on the boys.

Yawning, she leaned against the counter and waited patiently for her two boys to come down. Fang was usually quick at getting ready and she was right as he was the first to come down the stairs.

"Mornin', 'Sy!" He exclaimed, coming up to her and staring at her adorably. "Didja sleep well?"

"Well enough." She replied, ruffling his hair affectionately. "Did you sleep well?"

He nodded, "Ise didn't hear Quarrel's snores at all!"

She smiled and glanced up at the stairs to see Race coming down them slowly, his mouth open in a yawn. She felt responsible for his late night, but there was nothing she could do about it now. "Hey, Race." The girl called up to him, smiling slightly.

"Heya, doll. Kid." He pushed Fang's hat over his eyes and gave another yawn, "Ready ta sell?"

Fang and Asylum nodded and the three began their way to the distribution center just like any other day.*

**A/N: Yea, I re-read everything I have so far and it seems that chapter 6 is where shit starts hitting the fan so that's something to look forward to, no? I finished Chapter 13 (took me longer than some of the others) So I figured I'd treat you all to this chapter! Thanks guys for the wonderful reviews! You all should keep them coming! I tend to check my email every five seconds after updating. Yeah, I know, I'm kinda ridiculous! So, let me know how you felt about the chapter in a review!**

**Truly,**

**Joker is Poker with a J~**


	6. I'm tougher than everyone thought

**Ragged Army**

**Summary: Reports of young children going missing has swept through New York City. No clues, no leads to where they are being taken and if they're still alive. Only one girl seems to be attuned to the voices of the missing children…the problem? Everyone thinks she's insane… **

**Chapter 6**

*Asylum sold her papers while Race sold his down the street and Fang ran in between the two friends. The day wore on as usual until Asylum only had three papers left. Glancing down the street, she saw that Race still had at least ten. The girl turned back to her own, while peering around for Fang.

Not seeing her small friend, she turned her full gaze to searching through the crowd for him. He never went too far…a cold feeling settled in the pit of her stomach. _No_, her brain said, _he's here somewhere. He has to be._

Just as the panic began to rise into her throat, Fang broke through the crowd and came running towards her. A new kind of terror took hold of her at the look on his face. She looked up to see Race selling a paper to an older lady, and then looked back at Fang's face.

"'Sy!" He exclaimed, launching himself at her, "In dat alley back dere! Some men are tryin' ta grab some kids!"

Before the words were even out of his mouth, she had pushed him towards Race, "Go to Race." And she ran down the street to the alley he had pointed to.

She heard the yelling before she even got there, and as she rounded the corner she found three men in their late twenties. Two were holding little boys and the third was trying to grab another boy. "Hey!" She said, angrily.

Everyone stopped and looked up at her. The older men completely dismissed her, but the boys began wiggling in their holds. "Quick! If we bring these boys in we'll be number one."

The moment the word, 'one' slipped out of the bearded guy's mouth, Asylum felt her long forgotten instincts kick down the door that had just barely been locked shut from the previous night's dreams. Thinking fast, she ran, kicked herself off the wall and managed to scissor kick the man who wasn't holding a boy in the chest. He grunted and fell back as she landed on the cobblestoned ground as graceful as a dancer.

For a moment the two others stared at her, transfixed, "Put them down." She told them in a deadly calm voice.

One dropped the boy and turned on her, prepared to fight. "Grab the other and GO!" She told the boy, pointing to the opening of the alley she had turned down. The boy nodded, grabbed the hand of the second boy and ran past her.

"'Sy!" Race exclaimed, nearly running into the boys trying to get away. He took in the situation, and turned to Fang, "Take these boys to Jack, now. We'll follow close behind."

Fang nodded, took both the boys hands and fled down the street. Race turned and stepped next to Asylum, "You boys better drop da kid and pray we never get a hold of ya."

The two men exchanged a glance, looked down at the boy in the bearded guys arms and took off down the alley, away from Asylum and Race. "No!" Asylum cried out jumping over a pile of trash and sprinting after them, Race hot on her heels.

Following the men, they found themselves taken through a labyrinth of back alley ways. Though their lungs burned and their legs ached, they pushed on determined to save the last boy to whatever fate these men were taking him to. Asylum felt her past self push her onwards and she put on a burst of speed and managed to tackle the man with the boy from behind.

"Get the other guy!" She shouted to Race as she turned the bearded guy over, tossing a punch into his face. The guy groaned and released the boy as he tried to fend her off. He had no idea she was crazy, that she would do anything to save these children he would readily take from their homes.

She poured herself into the punches she threw at him, her ten years of being used and abused egging her on. "You sonovabitch." She swore, as her fist connected with his jaw, snapping back his head where it cracked on the ground and he blacked out.

Strong arms wrapped around her, pulling her off the man. She fought them, but she was weak after not fighting for so long. Suddenly, the anger and resentment that fueled her was zapped from her and she sagged against the arms.

"Shhh." A voice whispered in her ears, turning her around and pulling her into a hug. At first she thought it was Race, but these arms felt different. She felt she could relax and let them hold her forever. _How silly! _That annoying voice in the back of her mind told her derisively.

Footsteps behind her made her stiffen until the familiar voice of Racetrack made her relax, "Da othah got away. Lost in da crowd. What're ya doin' here, Spot?"

She stiffened again as his words reached her ears and she pulled away from the arms that held her so tenderly. Stumbling back, she stared at the blue eyes she had fallen in love with when she was seven years old. He met her eyes steadily as he answered Race. "I was in da Bronx visiting with Ratchet. I was on my way ta see Jack when youse two went running by."

Quickly, remembering the boy who had been in the bearded guys arms, she looked around pushing away at the fact that her feelings for him hadn't changed. The boy was huddled in the corner, fear plain on his face. She started towards him hesitantly to show she wasn't a threat, "Shh, don't worry. You're safe now. I won't let anyone hurt you."

He stared at her for a long moment, and then glanced at the man unconscious on the ground and back to her. For a moment he looked unsure. Until he launched himself into her arms and burst into tears.

The boy couldn't have been more than five. Anger flashed through her, and she hugged him fiercely. "It's okay. Shhh." She ran a hand through his hair and glanced up at Race. "How close are we to Jack?"

Race glanced at Spot, who looked up the alley, "Not too far." Was the Brooklyn Leader's sharp reply, and he turned to stride arrogantly down the street. Race turned to help her, but she merely scooped the boy up and followed Spot.

"Ya tougher den I t'ought, Asylum." Spot told her as they weaved in between strangers; heading towards Jack's selling spot.

She snorted, "I'm tougher than everyone thought." Her old self was slipping through the cracks and she tried to push her back as Spot threw her a surprised look. Something entered his eyes as he regarded her.

Mentally kicking herself, she looked away and saw a block away Jack and Davey looking around in frustration with Fang and the two other boys. "Jack!" Race shouted, jogging past her to their leader.

Relief washed over the Cowboy's face at the sight of them, "Come on. We're going straight ta da lodgin' house."

Davey, him and Spot all took one of the boy's hands and hustled them all the way to the Lodging house. As soon as the eight were safely inside, Jack turned to Asylum, "What da hell happened, 'Sy?"

Race stepped forward, "Ya shoulda seen her Jack. We all thought she was defenseless, but dis goil took care of dem guys! She kicked one in da chest and completely destroyed da othah's face."

Everyone turned to stare in awe at the girl. She only stared back, "Let's focus on the boys." She said tightly, crouching down in front of the three boys she asked, "Where are you all from? Do you know where they were going to take you?"

The three boys shook their heads in unison while the youngest one replied, "Ise from Harlem."

"Do you have a family? Or are you a newsie?" She asked softly.

His eyes filled with tears, "I have a mama. She'll be scared!"

Asylum pulled him in, "It'll be alright, I'll take you back to your mama. Do you think you could show me the way?"

Jack ran a hand through his hair, "Ya can't go out. What if those guys come back for ya and da kids?"

"I'll go wit' her, Jack." Spot interjected as Race opened his mouth.

Race glared, "I can do it. Don't ya gotta tawk ta Jack?"

"It can wait." The King said shortly, sending a frosty look at the Italian boy.

One of the boys looked up at Spot, "I don't have family. Can I stay here?"

Spot looked surprised for the second time that day and replied gruffly, "Tawk ta da Cowboy."

The boy turned his blue eyes on Jack who nodded, "Of course ya can stay."

Asylum turned to the boy who hadn't spoken, "Do you have a family we can take you to?"

The boy scuffed the floor with his shoes and then met her eyes, "I do. But, I don't wanna go back. I was leavin' when those guys got me."

She nodded, "Very well. Stay here with Jack while I take this one home." She turned her eyes on Spot, "Ready?"

Meeting her gaze, he stared at her for a moment before nodding. "Let's go."*

**A/N: My goodness, I'm getting these out fast...I guess I'm just excited! Hmm, are you all as surprised as Race and Jack that she can fight? How DOES she know Spot? Questions to ponder. But, since I'm getting these out fast I think a few more reviews are in order or I refused to give you the next chapter! (Hahaha, to believe me or not believe me...Review to find out!)**

**Truly,**

**Joker is Poker with a J~**

**P.S.: I guess I haven't put a disclaimer in this story yet, but I really don't see the point. I don't own anything you recognize. It probably belongs to disney if you do recognize it, but the whole point of is to write stories with other people's characters. This is all in fun, no? This is the only disclaimer i'm writing. It applies for every chapter before and after this! K, thanks, bye!**


	7. a hideous blank space

**Ragged Army**

**Summary: Reports of young children going missing has swept through New York City. No clues, no leads to where they are being taken and if they're still alive. Only one girl seems to be attuned to the voices of the missing children…the problem? Everyone thinks she's insane… **

**Chapter 7**

*The first half of the journey to Harlem was spent in silence with only the occasional sniffle from the little boy; whose name he told them was Will. Asylum carried him on her hip, though Spot had offered to in an uncommon show of gentlemanly behavior.

"Down here." Will told her, pointing down a street which was lined with tenement houses. "Dat one." He told her, pointing to building across the street. They headed towards them just as the front door opened and a young lady, probably no older than twenty-three, came running out towards them.

"William!" Her brown hair was a mess and her face was streaked with tears as Asylum set down the boy and mother and son caught each other in their arms.

Out of the front door came an older man, maybe twenty-five, and he enveloped the woman and child in his arms. They held the hug for a minute before the man let go and turned his chocolate brown eyes on Spot and Asylum. He ran his hair through his red hair before he put it out to shake their hands, "I take it ye found my boy."

He had a heavy Irish accent but he spoke English well enough, "Yes," replied Asylum, shaking his hand after Spot, "There were older men trying to kidnap him. We couldn't very well let that happen."

"Thank you." The woman told her sincerely, holding William closely. "This means the world to us." Her accent was distinctly English.

She brushed back William's brown hair and smiled at him tenderly. Asylum felt a small ache in her heart as she looked at the happy family, "It was no problem. Just glad to see him safely home." She smiled, and started to turn away.

"What's your name?" The woman called out, "We don't have much to share in thanks for saving him."

Asylum smiled and shook her, "Really, I don't want anything. Good bye." Giving one last smile and wave, she grabbed Spot's arm and pulled him down the street quickly.

"Ya didn't have ta rush away like dat." Spot muttered, pulling his arm away from her.

Crossing her arms, she glanced at him from the corner of her eye, "They need time together. They probably had a fit when they couldn't find him." She paused to shake her head in disgust, "I could kill those men for almost ripping that family apart."

"Maternal instinct is what had ya poundin' dat guys face in?" Spot asked, smirking slightly at the memory, she assumed.

She shot him an exasperated look, "I'm sorry for caring about the kids that are going missing."

His face suddenly went to stone, "I do, too, Doll. Don't t'ink I don't." He tapped his cane on the ground as they headed back towards Manhattan.

"I didn't mean it like that." She told him after moments of silence, "Only monsters could see children needing help and not try and stop it. I don't think you're a monster."

His lightning blues met her gaze steadily, "Funny, most people t'ink I am a monster. Comes wit da rep, I guess."

Asylum only shook her heard. There was no way she could talk about the past, it was too painful for either one and she figured he assumed she was long dead. Could she tell him they knew each other so long ago? Would he be happy to see her? Or annoyed? If she had been the one to escape first, would she want to know he was still alive and standing beside her? _Without a doubt_, she thought fiercely, but she knew her own feelings and the feelings she had had when she knew him as Ryan.

She did not know his own feelings for the girl he once knew. If he even thought about her anymore or if she was anything at all like that girl she was before he left. The years following his absence were the darkest of her life. They had taken their anger at letting him escape out on her and it wasn't too long before they had finally broken her. It had taken nearly seven years, but once her Ryan was gone she had crumbled fast.

_You're weak_, a voice whispered in her mind, _you knew he'd never find you and you let them break you. He'd have never been broken, not even if you had been the first to escape._

"Quiet." She muttered harshly, realizing too late she had said it out loud. Spot raised an eyebrow at her and her heart sank. He would definitely believe she was insane now. What kind of man would want anything to do with a crazy lady?

Shaking her head, she pushed the thought away. She didn't want anything to do with men, so it didn't matter what Spot thought of her.

A flash of William and his mother and father all hugging came into her mind unwittingly. Sometimes she gave into her guilty pleasure of imagining a future where she was married to the love of her life and they had a couple kids. She'd always wanted to live more in the country than directly in the city, and she imagined a modest house and a large piece of land they could claim as their own.

She chuckled to herself at her delusions, aware that she was only making herself look even more insane.

"Wanna let me in on da joke?" He asked, almost sarcastically.

Raising her golden-blues to meet his and she smiled softly, "Nope. You probably wouldn't see what was funny about it." Turning her eyes forward, she saw the Lodging House come into view and felt the feeling of safety return to her. She was always a little on edge when she was on the streets.

He studied her for a moment, before asking, "What brought ya ta dis here lodgin' house?"

She shrugged, "Honestly? I don't know. That night…it's a hideous blank space in my memories. The only thing I remember is the pain and the blood…" She caught herself before she said too much, "I don't like remembering it, alright?"

He nodded as they headed up the stairs and he watched her as she continued on to her room in the attic. When she disappeared, Spot waltzed over to Jack, "Heya, Jackie-boy."

Jack stood up and spit shook him, "Hey, Spot. Back so soon?" He gave a grin, but glanced around. "Wanna tawk up on da roof?"

Spot Conlon merely nodded as he followed Jack up the fire escape and onto the roof. The two old friends sat and stared up at the sky, smoking cigarettes before Spot finally told Jack why he was here, "Ise lost a newsie yestahday."

Jack glanced over, "Ya found out when ya got back?"

The Brooklyn King nodded shortly, "Yeah. Actually on da way back. One of my boids met me half way and told me…" His fists clenched absentmindedly, "I knew it was a big deal, Jack, but now it's poisonal."

"Hasn't it been poisonal, Spot?" Jack asked, because he had known Spot since he was twelve and knew there was a sordid past there.

Spot stood up and looked over the roof top down to the street, "Can I ask ya about ya newsie, Asylum?"

"Whatya wanna know, Spot? 'Cause honestly, dere's not a lot ta tell when it come ta dat goil." Jack watched something flash in Spot's eyes, but ignored it to wait for the question.

"Ya remembah da night she came here?" Spot asked, turning around to regard the Cowboy from the corner of his eyes.

Jack snorted, "Do I remembah? I wish I could foahget it. Ise asked Race exactly what happened dat night a million times. If she evah mentions it when dey're out sellin'. If she's evah mentioned anyt'ing about where she comes from. She nevah does." He thought about earlier that morning when she mentioned she had given her heart away, "Well, till dis morning. Race slept in her room last night 'cause of her nightmares." He stopped as Spot turned sharply to him, a thunderous look in his eyes, so he quickly added, "Ise made shoah nothin' happened. She told me Race was like a brothah ta her and dat she had given her heart away a long time ago."

Jack watched in surprise as Spot turned his head away and fingered the key necklace that hung mysteriously around his neck. "What about da night she came?" Spot prompted, seeming lost in thought but half listening. As if Asylum was a puzzle to be solved.

Glancing away from Spot and his odd behavior, Jack recalled the night to Spot exactly as Race had described it to him.*

**A/N: Yeah, so it's short but since last chapters has the most reviews now I decided to update again! Then I realized that this chapter and the next use to be one, but I broke them into two so you'll just have to wait to find out how Asylum came to the Lodging House. Review, please?**

**Truly,**

**Joker is Poker with a J~**


	8. I'm not scared of death

**Ragged Army**

**Summary: Reports of young children going missing has swept through New York City. No clues, no leads to where they are being taken and if they're still alive. Only one girl seems to be attuned to the voices of the missing children…the problem? Everyone thinks she's insane… **

**Chapter 8**

_**Manhattan, New York City, August 26th, 1899**_

Racetrack grumbled and shot a glare back at Kloppman as he headed out to the front steps. Since when was it a big deal that he smoked his cigars inside? The door shut behind him as he glanced back at Mush and Blink who were laughing at him. Scowling, he took a step down and nearly tripped on the body lying on the stairs.

He let out a strangled exclamation and caught himself. Tilting his head, he squinted through the dark at the person sleeping on the steps. All he could make out was long, dark hair against a white dress, except the dress had splotches of a darker color. _Dress?_ He thought, realizing the person was a girl. Reaching out a hand, he touched her hair. It was wet, and kind of sticky. Bringing back his hand, he glanced at his fingers to see them covered in a dark substance.

Suddenly, he realized it was blood. "Hey!" He yelled out towards the boys in the lobby.

Hopping over the body, he crouched down on the other side and gently rolled her over. She let out a sharp gasp and through the light of the lodging house he watched as her eyes opened. She was still alive!

"Shhh. What's ya name, goil?"

Her eyes were a sky blue, but around the iris were speckles of gold. "One."

"Huh? What happened ta ya?" He carefully picked her up bridal style and ignored her gasps of pain.

She reached out blindly, "He can't find me! He can't!"

Mush opened the door, "Kloppman says ya can't smoke ins-who's dat?"

Race shook his head, "Move! She's bleedin'!"

Mush quickly held the door as Race brought her in, her blood immediately soaking his clothes. Some of it even rolled down her arm to the tips of her fingers and splashed onto the floor. The boys that were still awake jumped up in exclamation. "Who's dat?" and "There's blood everywhere!" were a few of the annoyingly obvious shouts.

"Get Jack!" Race barked, "And a doctah. She needs help." He glanced down to see her eyes were once again shut. In the light he could see she was completely covered in blood, you couldn't tell where it was coming from. Her face was bruised, blood streaked and battered. Her left arm hung oddly and the light showed the dark splotches on her dress were, in fact, blood.

She shifted in his arms, cried out in pain and began to mumble, "Keep walking. Where's two? Don't let him find me." The girl began to cry silent tears.

"Shhh." Race tried to comfort her as he went up the steps and into the sick room. Gently, he laid her on the bed and ordered Blink to get him a bowl of warm water and a rag.

"What's all da commotion?" Jack asked, sleepily, coming in from the direction of the bunkroom. As soon as he saw the bloody mess, he rushed over, "Who's dis? What happened?"

"Found 'er on da steps when Kloppman told me ta smoke outside. I asked her her name and all she said was 'one.' I dunno what ta do, but I told Itey ta get a doctah." He took the bowl of water and rag from Blink and started cleaning the blood from her face. Jack and he both stared down at her in surprise because even with the bruises and cuts she was an honest beauty.

"Who would do dis ta her?" Jack asked softly.

Race shook his head and began cleaning her arms, "Someone crazy, dat's foah sure."

It was silent for a good twenty minutes as they anxiously waited for the doctor. They jumped up as the door opened and Itey escorted in a gentleman in his thirties who held a doctor bag in hand, "What do we have here?" He asked, shooing Race out of the way. The doctor looked taken aback by the bloody girl. "Dear lord." He whispered, and quickly went to work. He pushed the boys out and called for some clean clothes to dress her in.

Race fetched a pair of clean trousers and shirt because they didn't have any ladies garments and quickly handed them to the doctor before he slammed the door and went to work. The boys waited outside the door nervously for close to two hours before the doctor appeared.

He looked at them solemnly, "She had numerous injuries. I set her arm, though, stitched up the deep cuts. They looked like knife wounds. I even pulled a bullet out of her left leg and closed that up. Couple ribs were broken, not to mention a gash in the back of her head. Her back was riddled in slash marks; as if she'd been whipped…It wasn't pretty. She'll have numerous scars. Her face is clear, though, she only had bruises that will eventually heal. I can't guarantee she'll make it; all you can do is pray. The only thing that shocks me is the brand mark on her neck…"

"Brand mark? Where dey heat up iron and burn ya skin?" Mush asked, a queasy look crossing his face.

The doctor nodded, "Yes…it was a number one. It looks as if it has been done repeatedly for some time…"

Race looked just as sick as Mush, "Thank ya doctah…How much do I owe ya?"

He shook his head, "I won't charge anything for her. I've never seen anything so horrible…I'll be back tomorrow to check on her. Just make sure she gets rest and maybe some water if she wakes up…" He looked despairingly behind him, "I hope she lives so she can tell us who did this. Someone should pay for what was done to her." He clapped a hand on Jack's shoulder and slowly walked out of the lodging house.

Race walked into the sick room and looked at the girl. She was bandaged up and the blood was cleaned away but her body was black and blue.

Her eyes opened.

He almost took a step back. Was she supposed to be awake?

"Will he come for me?" She croaked out.

Race shook his head and glanced at Jack who had followed him in, "No, doll. He won't get ya. What's ya name?"

Her head rolled back and forth and her eyes stared sightlessly up at the ceiling, "One. I'm crazy. Don't send me to the Insane Asylum. I'm not crazy. Am I crazy? Where did two go? I couldn't save them. I can't even save myself." Her mumblings didn't make any sense and she seemed to jump around as if she thought some things but said others.

Her eyes returned to Race's brown one's, "I'm not scared of death."

As suddenly as her eyes opened, they closed and she passed out.

Race quickly went over to make sure she was still breathing. Sighing in relief, he glanced at Jack. "Ise t'ink she might've been put in an asylum if anyone else found her."

The Manhattan leader nodded, "We won't, though. If she lives, she's not going anywhere."

_**Manhattan, New York City, August 21st, 1900**_

Jack had watched the play of emotions that Spot hadn't been able to hide as they flashed across his face. From recognition, to betrayal, to horror, anger, and lastly awe.

"Why'd ya guys name her Asylum?" He asked, not looking at Jack just gazing out at the city before them.

Jack shrugged, "She was damn near crazy dat night, we figahed it was better than calling her 'one' and she didn't exactly give us a name."

The mist of rain that had been over the city for the last week and a half started to fall in large droplets. Jack stood, wondering if it was possible that they could finish the talk inside. Spot waved him away, "Get some sleep, Jack." Was all he said, and Jack was surprised he didn't use his usual nickname 'Jackie-boy.'

"Awright." Jack replied hesitantly and went down the fire escape. He glanced into Asylum's window to see she was still awake, sitting on her bed with the oil lamp glowing softly while she combed out her hair, a thoughtful look on her face.*

**A/N: Now you all know how she got there! But, alas, I did not tell you what happened! Ah, the mystery! The Suspense! It's super-fun to write and I love all of you guys' reactions! Review and tell me how you liked it! **

**Truly, **

**Joker is Poker with a J~**


	9. Number 47

**Ragged Army**

**Summary: Reports of young children going missing has swept through New York City. No clues, no leads to where they are being taken and if they're still alive. Only one girl seems to be attuned to the voices of the missing children…the problem? Everyone thinks she's insane…**

**A/N: Just FYI, from here on out there may be some pretty gruesome scenes about forms of torture. So, if you have a weak stomach, skip the scenes with - at the start and a - at the end. Otherwise, enjoy!**

**Chapter 9**

*Asylum sat on the bed and slowly brushed out her wet hair. It was a rat's nest and far longer than she'd personally liked it, but the boys had strictly forbidden her from cutting it. She smiled as she remembered Fang and Race hiding the scissors and even going so far as to hide the razors. Finally giving in she resigned herself to the hard maintenance that the long hair provided.

A thump to her right startled her and she dropped her comb as her window was slid open from the outside and a drenched Spot Conlon came crawling through. Reaching down, she picked up the comb and stared at the boy, "Um, wrong window." She told him, raising an eyebrow.

He turned away to close the window to keep the now downpour of rain out and turned back to her, his wet hair plastered to his forehead. His blue eyes flashed dangerously as he stalked towards her and she felt the smallest flash of fear.

"Spot?" Asylum just barely asked as he wrapped an arm around her waist and pulled her against him. She gasped slightly, unsure of what had occurred to make him act like this.

His blue eyes burned into her golden speckled ones before he suddenly dipped his head and their lips met. It was harder than he probably intended it to be and under the surface there was an emotion there that neither wanted to exactly identify.

Just as quickly, he let her go and turned away a new anger burning within the blue depths, "Ya didn't say anything. Not one word."

Still dazed from his lips, her fingers unconsciously reaching up to brush her own, she looked at him in confusion, "About what?"

"About what?" He scoffed, as if she was dense. "Oh, I don't know. About who you are, maybe? About our past tagethah? Ya wanna explain why ya nevah mentioned da fact dat ya made it out a live? I t'ought ya were dead, foah christ's sake!"

Asylum's heart dropped as she realized he knew everything. "Ho-…how'd you figure it out?" She dipped her head down so she didn't look directly at him. In her heart of hearts, she knew he would take this bad. She wasn't exactly the same girl he left behind…

"I'm not stupid." He stated flatly, walking over to her slowly, he put his finger under her chin and made her meet his eyes, "Ya knew, didn't ya?"

She couldn't lie to him, "From the moment our eyes met a couple nights ago."

He let out a harsh laugh, "Of course. Just like ya ta keep somet'ing ta yourself ta one up me. Ya haven't changed, Mina."

It felt like he slapped her, "That's not why I didn't tell you." She hissed, angrily.

"Oh yeah? Yeah? Why didn't ya, then? Tell me, 'cause if it'd been da othah way around I woulda looked foah ya." He had dropped his hand from under her chin and she took a step away from him.

"I looked for you, Ryan." She threw his own name back at him, "It just so happens a Ryan _Perry_ doesn't live in New York. How the hell was I suppose to know you changed your name to Spot-friggin'-Conlon?"

"Well, when ya saw me two days ago why didn't ya say anything? We spent da whole day tagethah!" He shot back just as angry.

Asylum felt tears rise in her eyes, "Because."

Raising an eyebrow coldly, he deadpanned, "Because. Dat ain't a good enough reason, Mina."

"Get out." She told him, hanging her head so he wouldn't see the tears as they slid down her cheeks.

She watched his boots from between her hair. They took one step towards her, "Mina." He whispered softly.

"Go!" She threw the word at him as she had done six years ago; turning her back towards him wishing suddenly that he had never come here. He hated her, she was sure. But, he should. She was only the broken shell of the girl he knew and he could never love this mad woman that was all that was left. There was nothing inside her to love; she was weak.

She listened as his footsteps went down the attic stairs and then there was silent except for a few soft snores, some squeaks from the mattresses as the boys shifted in their sleep and the rain that poured down pattering hard on the roof.

Glancing down, she noticed she was clenching the comb in her hand so tightly it was beginning to break skin. She loosened her grip and slowly brought the comb up to run through her hair gently. Her eyes rose to meet her own reflection in the small looking glass and she stared at the wrecked girl in front of her. Silly, how someone can have so many scars yet none where anyone could see them. Internal scars as well as the ones that littered her from the neck down.

Turning away, she kicked off her shoes and climbed into bed. Though she was weary all the way to her soul, she had a feeling that tonight wouldn't be as dreamless as the last two.

And she was right. The first dream was only a memory, dredged up from a past she wished she could forget.

_1894_

_ She was in the old cell, the one she had been in since she was six and had stayed in for five straight years before the men would move her to another location. Her eyes stared dully out at the night sky that she could just manage to see between the iron bars on the window and the buildings that towered around her holdings. Her senses were alive and attuned to every sight, smell and sound. The water dripped from the window, the rats scuttled about and the smell of human waste permeated the air. _

_ The softest sound, perhaps the brush of fingers on brick, made her snap her neck to look out of the bars and into the hall where her lonesome cell sat. At the moment, she was the only girl and she was kept separately from the boys. _

_ She rose from the corner as a figure appeared on the other side, "Mina." He whispered, and any normal person would have missed it._

_ "Ryan?" She whispered just as low, hers a question. _

_ He moved to a shaft of moonlight that just filtered in, the silvery light catching on his blue eyes making them almost glow. "I'm gonna get us outta here." His eyes met hers steadily as he pulled out a key. He smirked arrogantly as ever so softly he inserted it in and turned._

_ Nothing happened. _

_ Ryan cursed, "Wrong one. Bastard lied ta me. Hang on." He told her, turning to go, "I'll go find da right one."_

_ She reached out, "No, Ryan!" A door not far shut softly and they both heard it, "Quick, get away before they find you escaped. You can still save yourself."_

_ "I can't just leave ya." He murmured, running his hand through his light, brown hair._

_ Patiently, she nodded, "Yes, you can. And you _will_. They'll kill you if they find you out of your holdings."_

_ He stepped close to her, grabbed her hand and planted a kiss on the back of it, "I promise I'll come back for you."_

_ "Go." She whispered, and watching as he slipped off into the darkness. She went back to the corner of her cell and sat there, counting how long until they sounded the alarm. It was nearly five minutes when a yell began. _

_ "TWO'S MISSING!" A gruff voice called._

"_Check on One!" Another ordered and the door to the hall where her lone cell was slammed against the concrete wall as the men she hated most came barreling down the hall. They skidded to a halt and stared in shock as she just sat there, staring at them coldly._

_A tall man, his eyes pitch black to match his soul, took command, "Get her outta there. We're moving this place. Knowing them, Two'll come back for her."_

_She hated his cunning intelligence because she knew in that moment Ryan would never find her. She felt a cold despair grow in her heart as they grabbed her roughly and began to haul her away…_

The scene shifted from a memory to something…other.

_As if she were floating, she looked down from an aerial view of a cell not unlike the one in the previous dream but this one was a different building. She didn't know how she knew this, but her instincts screamed it was so. A little boy of about nine cowered in the corner, knees pulled up and head buried in his arms. His body racked in sobs that she couldn't hear. _

_She realized as his head snapped up that she couldn't hear anything at all. Her dream was strangely muted. Looking towards the cell door, she gasped as a familiar man appeared. He was tall, dark haired with equally dark eyes and he didn't look a day over twenty-four. The same man who had the men remove her so Ryan couldn't find her._

_His name was Blake Wilson. She had known him since she was ten and there was no one in the world she hated more. _

_ Still gazing on the scene as if she were a bird peering down, she watched as he opened the cell. The boy flinched as if the cell had banged loudly, and cowered from the man who didn't even hesitate to pull the boy up by his hair. _

_ Dragging the boy out of the cell, Asylum felt herself gravitate after the pair as they wound through the labyrinth of tunnels in the building. Blake stopped abruptly peered behind him and met Asylum's eyes. She felt fear shoot up her spine, but tried to shake it off telling herself it was only a dream. A smirk began on his strangely handsome face. He opened the door and pulled the boy in, dropping him in the closest chair._

_ He ordered something to the boy and she realized what as the boy began to strip hastily. Once he was done, he sat there shaking of fear and the cold trying to cover his private. _

_-Blake walked over to the stove that sat in the corner and pulled out a branding iron. Asylum felt fear in her gut as she realized what she was about to witness. Struggling to breathe, she begged her conscious to get her out of here; to wake her, at least. She had experienced branding and knew at a very young age how terrible it was. They had repeated it every year after, even though it didn't need to be performed more than once._

_ As he pulled out the branding iron, he stuck another it to heat and turned to the boy and giving him another order. The boy hesitantly got up on the table that sat across the room and lay down. _

_Blake moved over, the red hot iron in hand and grabbed the boys left leg. Tears streamed down the boys cheeks and his bottom lip quivered as Blake moved his hand up to the boys' knee and held on tight as he pressed the tip of the iron band to the inner part of the boys' thigh. _

_ At that moment the sounds and smells came slamming into Asylum. The boys screaming and the disgusting smell of burned flesh that she knew better than anyone had a right to. Choking, she tried to keep her own tears from falling but she couldn't. This boy was suffering and there was nothing she could do but stand in horror and watch. _

_ The man suddenly pulled the branding iron from the boys' skin and turned to the stove to extract the other one. Without missing a beat, he pressed the second one to the right of the first as the boy let out another scream of pain. Asylum couldn't take it any longer and moved forward just as the dream started to fade fast. She reached out as if to grab Blake but her fingers didn't meet him. _

_ The boy gave another scream and just as she began to wake she caught the brand on the boys' inner thigh. It was the number '47'.-_

Her own scream of anger, terror and frustration brought her awake.*

**A/N: So...I wasn't going to update so fast but I figured I would because I'm a kind and caring God. Just kidding. I skipped my writing class and I figured I should do some writing so as I proof read over every chapter I have written that's not posted I decided I could post this for all you lovely readers! Hope you enjoyed! Please review! I really do appreciate them!**

**Truly, **

**Joker is Poker with a J~**


	10. Missing

**Ragged Army**

**Summary: Reports of young children going missing has swept through New York City. No clues, no leads to where they are being taken and if they're still alive. Only one girl seems to be attuned to the voices of the missing children…the problem? Everyone thinks she's insane… **

**Chapter 10**

*Asylum dozed after the nightmares, never letting herself fall asleep completely. The memory had shaken her to her foundations and the nightmare hadn't helped at all. She could still smell the burning of the little boy's skin and could hear his screams echoed in her mind. It made her nauseous to think about it but she couldn't get it out of her head.

Finally, the sky began to lighten and she got up groggily and dressed in slow motion. She would have to do laundry in the next couple of days. Slipping on her boots, she made her way quietly to the lobby and sat at her usual place on the counter to wait for her boys. Some mornings she didn't mind waking them, but she did not want to run into Spot Conlon so she left the job up to Kloppman.

Listening, she heard as the old man woke them and as they began to file into the washroom. She could hear Mush, always the morning person, as he chattered away to the other boys who only grunted or replied with one word syllables. Glancing down, she noticed a hole in her shirt. She poked a finger through it and gave a sigh. She'd have to sew as well as laundry which she loathed to do.

Soft footfalls on the stairs caused her to look up and meet the cool blue eyes of the one person she didn't want to see at that moment.

"Mornin', Mi-Asylum." He said, catching himself before he used her real name. He scowled lightly at her as she avoided his gaze.

"Good morning, Spot." She said softly, keeping her eyes on the front door.

It was silent for a second until he cleared his throat, "Ise gonna head back ta Brooklyn. Was dere somethin' ya needed ta say?"

The girl that she thought was broken after he left seemed to be pushing her to tell him everything. He was, of course, the only person who would understand. Maybe he wouldn't judge her. Maybe he'd see that she had lived through hell and had just barely made it out. But, no, he wouldn't understand giving up. He was such a strong person, he wouldn't see that she had taken all she could and had finally broken. They were two completely different people and whoever he had fallen in love with, if he had, was long gone.

She shook her head, continuing to avoid his gaze. He turned to go just as she looked up and she caught a look of frustration in his eyes. Of course he would be frustrated. He just found his oldest friend and she wasn't the person he remembered. She'd let him down.

_Well, life was full of disappointments, wasn't it?_ She thought angrily at his back as he left. Continuing to glare at the door, she swung her legs as the boys started down the stairs. Racetrack was usually one of the firsts down to meet her.

"Heya, 'Sy!" Mush said as he came down, smiling at her sweetly, "Race is up in da bunkroom waitin' foah ya."

The brunette furrowed her brows, "Alright."

"I'm going to sell with Snipeshooter, alright 'Sy?" Fang asked as he went skipping by her.

She narrowed her eyes, "Sell with an older boy. I don't want you by yourself while those guys are still out there."

"I'll take 'im." Mush offered, pulling the small boys hat down low over his face.

Fang laughed and skipped ahead giving her a quick wave of good bye. She quirked an eyebrow, but shrugged and went up the stairs to the boys bunkroom which was now empty. "Race?" She called out, and then noticed he was sitting by the windows.

"Hey, 'Sy." He said, rubbing his eyes, "Look, Ise sorry. But…I went up ta tawk ta ya last night and I kinda…hoid da t'ings between Spot and ya." The sudden admission floored her for a moment until she felt her anger begin to boil.

Folding her arms across her chest, she stared the Italian boy down, "It's come to eavesdropping, Race?"

He stood up, "I didn't mean ta! I hoid da windah close and den he said somethin' about ya not telling him and I…I couldn't help but listen…" He trailed off, running a hand through his dark hair, "Look, ya haven't exactly been an open book, 'Sy. Ise was curious and I couldn't help it."

"Yes, you could have. You could have turned around and walked away. What's between Spot and I is in the past and certainly none of your business." She told him sharply.

"I know believe me, 'Sy, I know. And Ise sorry. I coulda kept it ta myself, but I felt guilty and if ya needed someone ta tawk ta, I'm here foah ya." His big, brown eyes pleaded with her blue ones and she felt herself sigh in defeat. She never could stay mad very long.

"It's fine. You could have asked, though." She told him grudgingly.

He gave a tentative smile, "So we good?" When she nodded, unable to hold grudges long, he threw an arm around her shoulders and led her out of the bunkroom, "Awright! Ready ta get sellin', den?"

So they headed out, the day passing quickly and without incident; at least as far as they knew. They had lunch at Tibby's as usual and there was no mention of the previous night or of Spot Conlon. For that, Asylum was thankful because she honestly did not know what to do about it, if there was anything she _could_ do.

As she munched on a roll, she looked over to Race, "Race, do you think I'm weak?"

Race swallowed his mashed potatoes and looked at her thoughtfully, "Nah, 'Sy, ya not weak. Ya wouldn't have survived when ya got ta da lodgin' house if youse was weak."

Asylum mulled that over as she slowly finished the roll and stared out the window. It was _still_ raining. It was going on near two and a half weeks. The sewers were starting to back up, and it wasn't a pleasant aroma.

Finishing their lunch, they headed back towards the Lodging House. "What about da evenin' edition?" Race asked, slipping a cigar between his lips.

Asylum groaned, "I slept poorly last night, the Spot business and the rain are all bringing me down. I can't really afford to skip it, but at the same time I just wanna curl up on my bed and be warm and dry."

Race nodded, throwing an arm around her shoulders, "Take a break, 'Sy. Ya been workin' like a dog since ya came ta da lodgin' house."

She laughed, "Thanks, Race. I think I will just lay down for a bit."

They walked the rest of the way in silence and she stayed true to her word and went up the stairs to the attic, stripped off her wet clothes before putting on dry ones and crawled into her bed, praying for a little dreamless sleep.

Of course, someone up there wasn't listening to her and she found herself hovering over the same cell, the same little boy who was branded just last night, now fully clothed, back cowering in the corner.

_ This time, instead of staying in one place she attempted to leave and found she could wander around as much as she liked. Just the merest thought about which direction she wanted she'd immediately turn. So, she wandered. In almost no time at all she knew the exact lay out of the building. There were about forty-five boys, some in clumps and some in single cells. Asylum couldn't quite understand the reasoning for some of them, but then Blake was probably the craziest man she'd ever had the unluckiness to meet. _

_ There were even one or two girls, no older than nine, in different parts of the building. She glanced in on them, but couldn't bring herself to stare too long. These children were likely never to be the same. _

_ She wondered briefly if she was just dreaming this, or if this was real. Were these the missing children? _

_ Suddenly, to her left, a door opened and a man came in dragging a boy. He pulled the kicking boy roughly across the ground, "Blake!" He shouted dumping the kid to the side as Blake came through another door. _

_ "Hello, Joe. What have you brought me?" He glanced at the boy, measuring him, "A little older than I like, but I'll make do. It'll be quite a challenge. Fifty dollars."_

_ "Ya tol' me seventy-five!" Joe growled. _

_ Blake crossed his arms, "Yes, but I expected someone younger. I'm giving less because he will be more difficult."_

_ Joe growled, "Sixty. It woulda been more if dat goil hadn't attacked me. I had t'ree small boys dat woulda been poifect."_

_ Blake feigned interest, "Yes, but you didn't bring them did you? Fifty-five is my final offer. How did a girl manage to get one over on you, Joe?"_

_ "Fifty-seven or I'll dump him in da rivah. She was a maniac, she was. Tiny little thing, but strong as a bull. Nearly beat the life outta poor Frank. Not ta mention the kick she threw at Paul. Nevah seen a goil go that fast." Asylum realized Joe was the guy that had gotten away just the other day._

_ The dark-eyed man said flatly, "Let's make a deal." He moved over to the boy lying on the ground and turned him over, "I'll give you sixty if you describe this girl to me."_

_ Fear washed over Asylum as she realized what was going to happen. _

_ "Real small, maybe five foot. Brunette hair, blue eyes." Joe told the man._

_ Blake stared at the boy, "Flecks of yellow around the iris?" _

_ "I wasn't exactly staring deeply inta her eyes, but shoah dey coulda. Ya gonna give me my money now?" Joe ran a hand through his hair impatiently._

_ Blake ignored him and stared at the boy, "What do they call you, street rat?"_

_ The boy went to spit at him, but he grabbed the boy's cheeks and raised a cool eyebrow. _

_ "Snipeshootah." _

Asylum felt a cold, icy fear wash over her as she blinked her eyes open. Recalling the dream, she jumped up and ran down the stairs, "JACK!"

Her piercing shriek caused the noise in the lobby to stop. "Asylum?" Jack asked looking up from the table where they played poker. "Whatsa mattah wit ya?"

"Where's Snipeshooter? Has anyone seen him?"

Fang looked up from playing toss penny with the boys, "Not since dis moinin' when ya told me ta sell with Mush."

"Snipeshootah!" Race called up the stairs in case the boy had come in and they had missed him, "Snipeshootah come down 'ere!"

Silence.

The boys went into a panic. Asylum had never seen them so frantic as they rounded up all the younger boys and sent a few of the older ones out to check some of the spots such as the statue of Horace Greely they liked to hang out around all to no avail.

It seemed as if one of their own was missing.*

**A/N: Thank you all for your reviews! I hope you enjoyed this chapter! Tell me how much in a review! **

**Truly,**

**Joker is Poker with a J~  
**


	11. I'd bet on dat right hook

**Ragged Army**

**Summary: Reports of young children going missing has swept through New York City. No clues, no leads to where they are being taken and if they're still alive. Only one girl seems to be attuned to the voices of the missing children…the problem? Everyone thinks she's insane… **

**Chapter 11**

*Asylum was just as frantic as the boys. Though Snipeshooter was older than the boys she usually looked after, any of them in a place as terrible as her dream was no place she wanted them. Remembering Fang saying he was going to sell with Snipeshooter that day made her stomach queasy at how close he'd come to being kidnapped as well.

She debated on what she saw in her dreams and what to do about it. It could only be the truth now that Snipeshooter was missing. Nerves fluttered in her stomach as she realized she might have to go to the one person she didn't want to. She folded her arms across her chest, and strode to the door.

"Where ya goin', 'Sy?" Race asked, beating her to the door.

She gazed steadily at her friend, "Move, Race. I need to go talk to someone."

He raised an eyebrow and leaned close to her to whisper, "Would dis someone happen ta live in Brooklyn?"

A scowl made its way onto her face, "Maybe." She muttered, turning her gaze from him.

Race reached out and grabbed his coat off the hook by the door, "Hey, Jack! Asylum and me are gonna go foah a walk and look around foah Snipeshootah, alright?"

Jack waved them away as he angrily ran a hand through his hair and paced back and forth, "Yeah, yeah. Just be careful."

Smirking, Race tossed his coat over Asylum's shoulders, "Come on."

He grabbed her hand and towed her down the street as the lightning lit up the now dark sky and the rain fell softly around them. "Damn, it's usually not so rainy in August." He muttered to himself.

Asylum jogged to keep up with his fast pace, "Race, calm down. We'll find Snipeshooter and all the other boys, too."

"I dunno, 'Sy. No one knows anythin' about the whole ordeal. How are a coupla newsies suppose to track down da people responsible?" He ran a hand through his dark, wet hair.

"I have an idea about it. I'm sure I know who's responsible for it, too." She pulled Race's coat tighter to her trying to trap in the warmth. Just the thought of those soulless dark eyes made her shiver.

Race looked over sharply, "Wanna clue me in, Asylum?"

She shook her head, "I will. But, first I need to talk to Spot."

They reached the Brooklyn Bridge a few moments later and she felt herself stop. Almost exactly a year ago she had vowed never to cross this bridge. A vow she was about to break to save some lives. Taking a deep breath, wishing she was as courageous as she once had been, she took a small step onto the bridge. When nothing happened, (_what did you expect a bolt of lightning to strike you?_ An annoying voice in the back of her mind asked) she breathed a sigh of relief and hurried up to follow Race who hadn't seen her hesitation.

The two friends walked the length of the bridge in silence until they reached the very end and Brooklyn. It was pitch black out because of the clouds that covered the moon and the only time they got a glimpse of anything is when the lightning flashed. "Stay close. Brooklyn's definitely not da safest place ta be. Especially at night and ya bein' good lookin' and all." Race told her quietly, keeping himself between her and the dark alleys.

"Was that a compliment, Race?" She asked jokingly, though she wasn't feeling very humorous. Brooklyn hadn't changed since the time she had stumbled through it to get to Manhattan.

He opened his mouth to reply when suddenly, three figures appeared in front of them, "Well, whattah we got here?" the boy in the middle asked, stepping forward and sizing them up.

Asylum and Race halted and stared at the three wearily. "Look," Race started, pretending to be relaxed, though Asylum could see the tenseness in his shoulders, "we don't want no trouble." He told them, putting his hands up slightly in a gesture of surrender.

"Oh, yeah?" The one to the right muttered, "Don't see ya around in dese parts much, Race. Especially since dat trouble wit Pistol coupla' months back. Ya shoah ya ain't lookin' foah trouble?"

Race blew out a breath angrily, remembering the incident with Pistol. He'd had a run of good luck and the guy hadn't been a gracious loser.

"We just want to see Spot." Asylum spoke up, and four sets of eyes fell on her.

The guy who had been silent spoke up, "Hey, dere, gorgeous. Ya know some of us here are just as good as ol' Spot. I can take ya somewhere and show ya a good time."

"Dat wouldn't be a good idea." Race told the guy, stepping in front of Asylum protectively, "Just take us ta Spot or be on ya merry way, alright? Dis is kinda important."

They all moved forward to circle around the pair, each taking short, measured steps. Asylum stiffened, she did not like to be cornered, "If you fear your leader, you wouldn't harm us." She told them, her voice husky with strain to keep still.

The boy who had made the suggestive comment to her snickered, "I nevah seen ya befoah, doll face, ya can't mean dat much ta him if he don't intraduce ya to 'is boys. 'Sides, he likes us ta have a little fun every now and den." With that last word, he reached out and pinched her butt.

Asylum let the fear drive her to strike out, her fist colliding with his cheek her whole body going with it. She pulled up short from falling over as the guy went down surprise as clear as day on his face, "Fuck." He swore, spitting out blood, "Dat's a killer right hook."

She was surprised he hadn't come at her immediately. Watching him wearily she let her own surprise show on her face when he stood up and spit in his hand, holding it out to her. Realizing she had been tested, and apparently had passed, she spit shook with him. "Ise Cheese Cassidy, Spot's second, and any goil dat can punch like dat is alright with me."

Asylum felt a smirk appear on her face, "Asylum Perry."

He smiled, any trace of the menacing boys gone from all three of them. "Come on. No sense catchin' ya deaths out here." He threw an arm around her shoulder and the five continued on down the street.

"Oh yeah," He said, pointing to the first guy who'd spoken when they had first met up, "Dat dere is Ruckus and da othah bum is Flash. He's been trailin' ya two since ya left Manhattan." Cheese shot her a smile.

"Why?" She asked, her head tilting to the side.

Cheese shrugged, "Spot told him ta, of course. Guess dere's somethin' bout ya. I'd bet on dat right hook." He winked one of his light brown eyes. His hair was a light blonde that was nearly yellow, and she thought that might be where he got his nickname, though she wasn't exactly sure.

She dipped her head, blushing slightly. She hadn't been complimented so much in one night or in her life for that matter, she couldn't help being embarrassed. Though she did find it odd, the sudden turnaround of Spot's newsies. Of course, she of all people knew you couldn't be tough all the time.

They stopped suddenly, and she raised her eyes to a two-story building that was almost identical in looks to the Manhattan counter-part, though the sign proudly proclaimed it Brooklyn's. Cheese dropped his arm from around her shoulder and moved up to the door to hold it open for her, "Ladies foist." He told her, and she couldn't keep the smile off her face.

It started to slip the moment she stepped in and the first thing her eyes met was those lightning blues that she was so familiar with. They were definitely his greatest physical feature, though the rest of him was just as exquisite.

"Ya guest of hona, Sir Spot." Cheese told him, flourishing his arm out to Asylum, "A one, Asylum Perry."

Her face heated up as she realized that she had stupidly dropped in her 'last name' and he now would know she had taken his last name when she had become a newsie, something she had personally left out when they had been introduced a couple of days ago so he wouldn't make the connection between them. The blush only deepened when he raised an eyebrow, some emotion she could not define lighting in his eyes.

He had been leaning against the counter near the front door, but he straightened and headed towards her. "Well, Asylum, dis is quite a surprise." His eyes traveled up and down her to check that she was intact, before he looked behind her and his gaze darkened slightly, "And Racetrack. What can Ise do foah ya?"

Race opened his mouth but she cut him off, "I need to talk to you…somewhere private, if that's alright?"

Spot's gaze slid from Race to her and he stared at her for a moment, just gazing at her face as if trying to read it, "Alright." He murmured turning around and heading down the hall to his private room.

"'Sy?" Race asked, glancing between her and Spot.

"Let me talk to him, alright? Then I'll bring you in and explain things. It shouldn't be long." She promised, pulling off his coat and handing it to him, "Thank you, Race." She gave a nod to Cheese before hurrying down after Spot.

He waited for her to get in the room before he shut it softly. She felt a strange sense of calm now, as if she had been a wind blowing around every which way until she came here, into this room with Spot, who was a mountain that she could not move. He was strong, sturdy and she felt she was completely safe with him. Stamping down the initial feeling of throwing herself in his arms, she folded her arms across her chest and breathed in to calm her nerves.

"Snipeshooter's been taken but I know who has him."*

**A/N: Dun dun duuuuuunnnnnn. So, these might start coming out slowly. I only have till chapter 17 written so far and that's not anywhere near the end...plus, classes are picking up and I have to devote more time to them than writing *sadface* On another note, I hope you all liked this little filler chapter. I personally like Cheese, but since he's a figment of my imagination this would make sense. Thanks to all who are reading and those reviewing! Please, continue to let me know how you all feel of the direction of this story! **

**Truly,**

**Joker is Poker with a J~  
**


	12. the key that hung around his neck

**Ragged Army**

**Summary: Reports of young children going missing has swept through New York City. No clues, no leads to where they are being taken and if they're still alive. Only one girl seems to be attuned to the voices of the missing children…the problem? Everyone thinks she's insane… **

**Chapter 12**

*Spot only stared, waiting for her to continue. Amazing how he could stay perfectly still, as if he didn't want to move and startle her. She ran a hand through her wet hair and turned to pace as far as she could in the small room, "It's my fault, really. I made Fang sell with Mush, but was I thinking about the other boys? I'm so stupid. No one even noticed until I had woken up after the dream and then the boys were running around trying to find if he was anywhere else but I knew he wasn't and there was no one I could talk to and Ryan, you're the only one who understands! What was I suppose to do? They think I'm absolutely mad! For Christs' sa-"

"Mina. Mina! Calm down." Spot said, reaching out and stopping her pacing and her ramblings. "Take a breath." He ordered.

She sucked in air and exhaled slowly, "Thanks."

He nodded and dropped his arms, pulling out his cane he started to tap it slowly, a thoughtful look on his face, "So ya crossed da bridge, huh?" He asked lightly, his eyes softer than usual.

Asylum gave a small smile, "Yeah. I had to." Her eyes met his and for a moment they just stared. Asylum's mind reeled back to the memory of him roughly kissing her in her room just last night. Her lips tingled and her face grew hot, so she dropped her eyes, embarrassed.

A low chuckle brought her eyes back up, "I hardly think this is a situation to be laughing at, Spot." She told him primly.

He stopped chuckling, but a smirk pulled up the left side of his mouth, "Alright, now. Tell me about dis dream."

She bit her lip, "Well, I promised to tell it with Race in the room. But…I'd have to tell him everything."

Spot Conlon cocked an eyebrow, "Ya mean ya haven't already?"

"No. Have you told anyone?" She asked, curious.

He shook his head slowly, "Nah. I don't go spilling my feelings like some poor sap."

"Not you. Never you!" She said sarcastically, but smiling to show she was joking.

He smirked, their fight from the previous night hadn't seemed to affect them and the years apart didn't seem to mean much when they were suddenly alone. Spot seemed to realize this and his expression sobered.

Before he could talk, her eyes caught the key that hung around his neck. She took a step towards him and reached out to finger it, "Why do you keep it?" her murmured question was met with silence until she tore her gaze from it and looked up at him.

Her heart ached at the pain in his eyes, "To remind myself."

"Of?" She asked, tilting her head.

"That Ise human. I'm not as immortal as my newsies think. Dat I make mistakes and dat key was da biggest mistake evah. To remind myself of you and that I didn't keep my promise." His fists clenched angrily and she realized just how much he blamed himself.

Softly, she laid a hand on his cheek, "I never blamed you. They moved me that night. Blake knew you'd come back for me, somehow. You couldn't have known where I was."

"It doesn't matter!" He snapped, pulling away from her and turning so she was met with his back, "I promised you. I shoulda scoured da city, checked every empty building, warehouse and old police station. But, I came ta Brooklyn and when I went back ya were gone and everywhere else I looked ya weren't there and after a few years I was shoah ya were dead…"

"I very nearly was." She murmured.

"Ya still won't tell me why ya didn't tell me who ya were, will ya?" He asked, softly.

She should tell him, she knew. But, she couldn't. He deserved the truth but as long as he didn't know, she still had a chance, right? "I need some time."

Spot shook his head in frustration, "Well then, call Race in here so we can discuss ya dream. Den maybe we can figure out a way ta save dese kids."

Nodding, Asylum went to the door and opened it. Race was leaning against the wall down the hall from the room they were in and she waved him on down. He nodded to Cheese and came in, shutting the door quietly. "What's goin' on?" He asked, looking between the two.

"Nothing." Asylum replied, "I'm going to tell you about my two dreams and we're going to decide what to do. We might be up late, and Spot you should send two of your newsies to let Jack know we're staying here tonight."

Spot raised an eyebrow at her order, but smirked slightly as he saw the old hints of Mina in her eyes. He walked over to the door and called to Cheese, telling him to send Flash and Ruckus to Manhattan. Cheese nodded and went upstairs and Spot shut the door and turned back, "All done, doll."

She nodded, and turned to glance out the window, "Well, the…first dream was of a small boy in a cell. Blake came and took him to another room and," She winced, "Branded him."

Race looked confused, "Who's Blake? And you mean…like ya neck?"

Asylum turned to him sharply, "How do you know about that?" She always left her hair down so no one could see it. It made her feel as if she wasn't human when she thought of it. Just a number to the man who had branded her, his possession almost and she refused to be some psycho's possession.

Race shrugged, "Da doctah told us da foist night ya were there. Said he found it on your neck."

Asylum slid her gaze to Spot, before bracing herself. She was about to share her past, a part of her that had been kept hidden under lock and key for so long, it could have been someone else' life she was telling, "I'll give you the full story, then. My father left when I was four and when I turned five my mother had remarried. She died six months later and I was left in my step father's care. He abused me for awhile, until he realized he was going broke trying to feed his taste for liquor and gambling. So, he took me to a man by the name of James Gale, who was the leader of a gang that dealt heavily in drugs, gambling and fighting. He sold me to James for twenty bucks and from them on I was kept in a small cell." The hurt from being sold to a man still pained her down to the reaches of her soul, a scar that could never fully heal.

"James was no better than my step father. He did keep me fed, which was more than I can say for my step father. He even began to teach me to fight and when I started to catch on, that's when he got this crazy idea in his head that he could train me to be some kind of hit man for him. Me, a mere girl of seven. Things got crazier, though. He branded me on the neck with a number one and then grabbed an orphan off the street." She paused, sending a look to Spot, "His name was Ryan and he was branded with a two. Those were our names, we weren't suppose to speak our real ones, part of some kind of sick way to keep us from feeling human.

"Ryan and I were the only ones for about a year and we were pitted against each other every night for the men's entertainment and to show what we had learned that day. Soon, they started to get a few more boys in and we were put against them. Ryan and I had seniority, though, and therefore we were the best. We were kept in the same cell night after night until they had reached about ten boys and they moved Ryan away. We were about ten at that time. About six months later, James Gale was usurped by a teenage boy named Blake who was even worse than James. He's intelligent and cunning, but crazy to boot. A year later, Ryan managed to escape, so Blake moved me so Ryan wouldn't be able to find me."

Asylum paused and rubbed the back of her neck, "Things got worse after that." She muttered, not looking at Spot, "Blake was angry Ryan had escaped and took it out on me."

Spot's shoulders began to tense increasingly as Asylum continued her story, "He'd mess around with different tools and see how far I'd come close to death before having a doctor fix me. I'd heal for a month or so and he would repeat the process. He used any type of weapon on me to see how much I could take. It was sick and twisted. But, I was his favorite. For some reason, he tortured me the most. I guess it was better than one of the smaller boys getting hurt, but I'm haunted by the memories."

Race stared in awe, "How did ya escape?"

Spot perked up at that, his eyes meeting her. He had wondered that as well. She remembered that night and it made her shiver but she continued on, "That night is burned into my memory up to a point. I remember being in the so called, 'torture chamber' and he had me dressed in a white night gown, which stuck to my back which was bloody from my whipping earlier. The damn thing made me look like a kid and he stared at me for a long time and rambled about how I shouldn't have left him. I figured he was crazy and saw me as his mother or sister or something. Suddenly, he got angry and broke the closest window and I stared as the glass fell to pieces. I watched as he picked up the biggest one and began slicing at me. Nearly gutted me the first time, and I figured I was going to die that night. Blake was acting crazier than ever and I didn't think he'd be stopped.

"He slashed at me for a long time, sometimes quick strokes and sometimes he'd press it against my skin and slowly pull it along. He grabbed my left arm at some point and snapped it like a twig. I think him doing that had somehow let me slip through the bindings on my arms. It seemed to have been a miracle. He turned away for a split second and I took it as an opening, springing up while ignoring the pain and running for the door. He yelled at my back but gave me a head start.

"Blake is sick like that. He loved playing with people. I ran through the building trying to remember how to get out and he walked along behind in slow steady steps, following my blood trail. I made it outside, but one of his men was there. The guy got in a quick punch to my face and we grappled, all my fighting lessons coming back. He tackled me to the cobblestone and I cracked my head on the sidewalk as he continued to beat me. Blake came out and told him to stop and get off me. I managed to get up, to sprint even though I was seeing stars and I could feel my hair get wet from the blood. Blake laughed as I stumbled down the street away from him."

She closed her eyes, remembering every cut and bruise. She could feel the throbbing in the back of her head and she recalled the way she had gripped her side as the blood seeped between her fingers. "I was half way down the street when he cocked a pistol and fired. I felt it rip through my leg and tore muscles and I felt myself drop to the ground. It was silent for a long time as I lay there, expecting them to come get me. They didn't. The door to the building slammed shut and I was left to bleed to death."

Pausing she stared at the two boys, "Holy shit." Race muttered, "How'd you end up at the Lodging House?"

"I don't remember." She told him honestly, "I blacked out for a long time, so I assumed my unconscious took hold and helped me stumble to find somewhere safe. A survival instinct, I suppose. The only part of my journey I remember is crossing the Brooklyn Bridge and swearing not to cross it again. Then I remember you, Race, and being in a warm, bright place and I was sure I had died and gone to heaven. Until I woke up a week later and you told me I was in Manhattan."

"Would Blake have follahed ya blood trail? Or realize you might be alive if your body had never been found?" Spot asked, furrowing his brows.

"It rained dat night." Race told him, "Woulda washed da blood away. Plus, dey always finding dead bodies. He can't have known she'd survive a beating like dat."

It sounded so reasonable to Asylum, until her dream from earlier came back and she gasped, fear settling in the pit of her stomach, "Not anymore. He knows I survived."*

**A/N: Now you all know the full story! Did I pan that out well? I think taking twelve chapters was pretty good. Bahaha, you all will absolutely LOVE the next chapter. It was by far my most favorite to write! Anywho, tell me in a review how much you loved this!**

**Truly,**

**Joker is Poker with a J~  
**


	13. Wanna go out foah a smoke, Race?

**Ragged Army**

**Summary: Reports of young children going missing has swept through New York City. No clues, no leads to where they are being taken and if they're still alive. Only one girl seems to be attuned to the voices of the missing children…the problem? Everyone thinks she's insane… **

**Chapter 13**

*"How?" Spot demanded, angrily.

"My dream. Remember the guy that got away? I dreamt he brought in Snipeshooter and complained to Blake about his friends getting their ass handed to them by a girl. Blake offered him more money if he described me, and...he did." It felt like her chest was caving in. She did not want to go back there. The first time she had just barely made it out alive. If she went back, she didn't think she'd be so lucky as to survive a second time.

Race's mouth dropped open as Spot suddenly turned to stare in horror. Asylum dipped her head and swayed a bit as exhaustion swept through her, "Spot?" She asked, softly looking up to meet his eyes "Is there somewhere I can sleep?"

Her body swayed again and it felt like her legs couldn't keep her up any longer. Her vision started to get fuzzy as Spot strode towards her and scooped her up bridal style. She immediately put her arms around his neck.

"Get da door." Spot ordered Race, and strode half way down the hall to a door on the left. He managed to open it and took her to the bed that was tucked into the corner and laid her down gently as she lost consciousness. Leaning over her, he studied her face, smoothed her hair back and lightly brushed his lips against her forehead.

He stepped back and watched her sleep, face relaxed and completely open. He had always thought she was the prettiest girl when he had first met her and her beauty had only flourished as she got older. Since he found out she was the Mina he had known in the dark days of his captivity he could barely believe his luck. For years he was sure she was long dead, and naturally he had blamed himself when he couldn't find her. He had gone to the building they had been kept in hundreds of times looking for any clue at all where to find her and had always come up short.

Little had he known that the past year she had been right under his nose in Manhattan. He could kick himself for not recognizing her the minute Race had brought her in.

Sighing, he decided to let it go. At least he had her now and he vowed silently that she wasn't getting away again. He pulled a blanket over her, put out the oil lamp and shut the door gently behind him. Looking over towards Cheese, he told him sharply "If anyone even thinks about goin' in dere I'll kill 'im."

Cheese merely raised an eyebrow and then nodded silently. Race shifted uncomfortably. Though he and Spot had always been on good terms, things seemed strained with Asylum between them. Race supposed Spot was jealous that he was the new Best Friend and Spot had just realized who she was.

"Wanna go out foah a smoke, Race?" Spot asked lightly.

Race met his eyes, "Shoah, Spot."

The two headed out the front door and took a seat side by side on the steps in front of the building. "Gonna question me about her, aye?" Race asked, lighting his cigar.

Spot smirked, "Ya ain't stupid, Race."

It was silent until Race asked, "So? Whatya wanna know?"

The Brooklyn Leader mulled that over in his brain for awhile, "She evah mention me?"

Race rolled his eyes at the question he had suspected was coming. Trust Spot to only ever have himself on his mind, "Yeah, once. Beats me why she cares about ya, though." Race couldn't help but add that last part in there.

"What's dat suppose ta mean?" Spot asked, his eyes darkening.

The Italian boy blew out smoke and glared over at Spot, too angry to remember the reputation Spot held, "It means I dunno why da goil has feelings foah someone dat up and leaves her. She gave ya her heart a long time ago and what do ya do? Ya leave her and she has ta deal wit' da after effects of ya choices. It doesn't sound like it was as bad till you cut out and den all of a sudden she's being tortured near death every month while you skip around bein' da freakin' King of Brooklyn wit' dat damn womanizer rep. She's a good goil, Spot. Ya don't deserve her."

"Gee, Race, don't hold back." Spot said sarcastically, launching himself from the steps and pacing on the sidewalk, "What da hell was I suppose ta do, Race? Da guy gave me da wrong key and by da time I found out it was too late. It was get out and live or stay and be killed. She _told_ me to go."

"Get out and have her take da fall out or stay and take a lousy beatin'? Ya chose ta leave her with da wolves, _Ryan_." Race threw his name at him.

Spot's eyes narrowed, "Watch ya tone, Race and I did not give ya permission ta use me name."

Race scoffed, "If she gave _you_ her heart den she must be crazy."

Spot didn't hold back the swing he let fly and it connected with a harsh crunch to Race's cheek. Race immediately tackled Spot, managing to stay on top long enough to get a punch to his right eye until the Brooklyn King easily flipped Race over and gave him a punch that would leave them with matching shiners. Grappling to get the upper hand, Race managed to give Spot an uppercut to the chin that had enough force to send Spot off him. They both got to their feet and stared each other down for a moment before Race threw another punch that Spot ducked and gave back a strike in the gut. Race doubled over and Spot stood triumphantly until Race rushed forward, still bent over and at the last second bringing his head up to connect it with Spot's jaw. Spot pushed Race back far enough where he could land another blow to Race's face and Race groaned for a moment before throwing one last hit that connected to Spot's mouth.

Spot would have retaliated but he realized he had just soaked Asylum's best friend. If she found out, she'd never forgive him, so he stepped back from Race, "Ya _nevah_ call her crazy, ya here me?" Spot told him darkly, spitting out some blood and wiping his mouth.

Race glared back, "I'll call her whatevah. I'm her best friend."

"Yeah, well I was her best friend foist!" Spot shot back, both unaware of how childish they were being.

Sneering, Race replied, "You don't even _know_ her anymoah, Spot. Da way t'ings are going, she might nevah give ya da chance. Ya blow it everytime she gives ya da opportunity ta save her."

"What are ya tawkin' about? She's strong, she don't need savin'."

"Shows what ya know," Race told him, folding his arms across his chest, "Deep down inside, every girl needs saved in some way."

"Save your advice foah some poor sap." Spot snapped, running a hand through his now wet hair. The rain had begun to drum down in large droplets during their fight and they were both wet to the bone.

Snorting, Race shrugged as he said, "Thought ya were a womanizer, don't seem like ya know much about dem ta me. 'Sy gave ya a chance ta save her back when ya left da foist time."

"It was the WRONG KEY!" Spot replied through clenched teeth, furious at Race's words.

"Yeah, but ya coulda fought foah her. Instead ya ran. Den da othah night when ya confronted her she gave ya da chance ta get close but ya blew it with ya tempah and ya stahted yellin' about how she didn't tell ya. Den accused her of holding it ta one up ya. Little fact, Spot, not everyone wants ta screw ya ovah. She didn't want ya ta compare who she is now ta da goil ya remembah 'cause she, foah some reason, t'inks she's lacking." Race sighed, realizing he was helping the jackass see things from her point of view, but while he despised Spot at this moment he never wanted to see Asylum unhappy and unfortunately Spot seemed to make her very happy.

"Whatya mean 'lacking'?" Spot asked, calming down enough to look confused as he pondered what Race had said.

Race said patiently, "What I mean is she feels she's weak. She t'inks dat 'cause she been through hell and back and ain't da same goil dat she's inferior ta the strong-willed girl she was before dis Blake person fucked her over."

It seemed to suddenly click in Spot's mind and he sat down on the steps again, "Really?"

Race rolled his eyes, wondering how Asylum had fallen for this idiot. Plus, she had taken his real last name for her newsie one. What was she thinking? She could do a lot better. "Dat's what Ise t'ink. Not that she actually talks to me about it."

"Spot? Race?"

They both glanced up to find her in the door way, the blanket wrapped around her. "Whattaya doin'? Ya should be asleep." Spot said, sprinting up the stairs to meet the girl.

Asylum's big golden-blues were filled with tears, "I had another nightmare." She said, softly, "Blake was asking Snipeshooter if he'd ever seen me. He…" She choked as tears started falling down her cheeks, "he denailed Snipes left hand until he finally told him I stayed at the Manhattan Lodging house."*

**A/N: So, as a treat for all the amazing reviews I updated early! This was my favorite chapter, so I hope you all enjoyed it as much as I did! Tell me in a review what you thought of this chapter!**

**Truly,**

**Joker is Poker with a J~  
**


	14. It was easier to leave than to be left

**Ragged Army**

**Summary: Reports of young children going missing has swept through New York City. No clues, no leads to where they are being taken and if they're still alive. Only one girl seems to be attuned to the voices of the missing children…the problem? Everyone thinks she's insane… **

**A/N: Just FYI, Denailing is a form of torture where they rip off your nails one by one. Yeah, pretty gruesome, I know. Well, enjoy!  
**

**Chapter 14**

*"Get inside." Spot ordered Race, wrapping the blanket tighter around Asylum. He then hustled the girl back into the lodging house, "Ya stayin' in Brooklyn where you can be protected."

Asylum stopped him from pushing her any farther than the lobby and wiped the tears away on the blanket, "No, Spot. I have to go back."

Spot snorted, "Over my dead body. It's not safe, he knows where ya are."

The girl's spine stiffened, "Everyone there is in trouble, Spot, and it's my fault. I have to go back and protect them. What if he kidnaps Fang next? Or Quarrel? What about the other boys?"

"Jack can take care of them." He told her obstinately.

She shook her head, just as stubborn, "No, Spot. This is my problem and I'm going to deal with it. Race and I will stay here tonight, but we're going back to Manhattan in the morning." With that said she turned before Spot could argue and walked into the room she had fallen asleep in and shut the door.

Spot ran his hand through his hair and turned to Race, "Ya just gonna let her go back? Go right where she can be found at the lodging house?"

Race shrugged, "She's a softie but she's stubborn. Most I can do is protect her when we go back."

Jaw clenching, Spot headed up the stairs to the bunkroom, "Well, I'm comin' with ya two whethah ya like it or not. Come on, I'll give ya a bunk ta sleep on."

Race shrugged, the fight long forgotten and followed him up the stairs

Asylum lay in the bed, inhaling the smell of whoever usually slept in this bed. It was a wonderful smell, she had to admit and it did take her mind off of the problems at hand. She refused to sleep because she didn't want to see Snipeshooter hurt anymore. Denailing had been one of Blake's favorite forms of torture and she glanced down at her right hand where a few of the nails had grown back deformed. She knew the pain that entailed. At the same time she wanted to sleep, if only to see if she could look out a window and see a street sign that would lead her to the place of these children's capture.

Heaving a sigh, she buried her nose into the pillow. It smelled of warm newspapers with a spicy kick that had to be the boy's own scent. It soothed her and she relaxed slightly, pondering what she should do next. Should she sleep, or stay awake? When they got back to Manhattan should she tell Jack all that she knew? Should she have the younger boys brought here to Brooklyn to be protected?

A soft tap on the door made her pause and she stared at it as it opened a crack, "Mina?" She knew before he even spoke her name it was Spot and she found herself sitting up as he slipped in, shut the door and walked quietly over. "Ya alright?" He asked, sitting on the edge of the bed.

She felt herself shrug, "I just don't want to go to sleep."

"Well, ya gonna have ta get some sleep." He told her sternly, "And though I still don't t'ink its right foah youse ta go ta Manhattan, I'm going with ya if ya gonna be stubborn about it."

"I don't know, Spot, if you get mixed up in all of this and he finds out you're Two he'll kill you." Asylum told him, her chest tightening at the thought of him dead.

"If I get a hold of him, I'll be da one killin' _him_." Spot's voice was darker than she'd ever heard it.

"Ryan?" She asked, suddenly feeling tired again even though it scared her to fall asleep.

"Yes, Mina?" As suddenly has his tone had gone dark it was soft again.

She bit her lip anxiously. Asylum knew in her heart their time as friends, or whatever they were, was soon to be up. They couldn't be the people they had once been and the people they were now would never work. He was too strong, the King of Brooklyn with women at his beck and call, not to mention boys to lead and take care of. She was just a girl who had had a rough past and all she wanted out of life was happiness, except the only person who made her truly happy was this man in front of her. The brunette would have to give him up, soon, before he realized she wasn't who he wanted and left her.

Too many times she had been left. First by her father, who had left them willingly and then by her mother who had died of pneumonia. Ryan had already left her once and if he did it again, she didn't think she could survive. It was easier to leave than to be left behind.

"Mina?" Her Ryan asked her softly, moving closer on the bed, "What is it?"

Their faces were inches apart and she yearned to lean in closer and close the distance. For a moment she held back, knowing that would be silly after she had just made up her mind that she had to end things with him, but then some other part of her brain took over and she leaned forward. Her head tilted to the right and her eyes fluttered shut.

He didn't hesitate to meet her halfway, his lips pressed softly to hers so unlike the night he had confronted her. Had that been just the night before? His hands settled on her waist and he pulled her close and all thoughts flew from her mind.

For a minute the kiss was soft and gentle but in a second it turned more passionate than either had felt. Her arms struggled out of the blanket so she could wrap one around his neck while the other hand tangled into his hair. One of his hands on her waist moved to cup the back of her neck as his tongue slipped out and traced along her bottom lip.

She moaned in the back of her throat at the pleasure and softly parted her lips, thankful they were not standing because she didn't think her knees would have kept her up. His tongue slipped through and they battled for a minute until they broke off the kiss abruptly to catch their breaths. She shivered as he pressed his lips to her neck. Letting her head fall back slightly, she felt herself sigh, "Ryan."

He groaned as she said his name, but pulled his lips from her neck, "As much as I love dis," He told her, "We both need ta get some sleep."

"Where are you going to sleep?" She asked only half paying attention as she ran a hand through his light brown hair, loving the way it slid between her fingers.

He had been running his hand up and down her arm but when she asked that an arrogant smirk started on the left side of his lips as his eyes met hers, "I was thinkin' here since this is my bed and all."

Her head tilted, "This is your bed?" Her gaze slid to the pillow, "No wonder it smelled so good."

"I smell good, huh?" Spot asked, cockily as he moved her over so she was in the inside of the bed between him and the wall.

"Yeah." She murmured as he crawled under the blanket and pulled her into his arms, "Should we be sleeping like this? Won't Race and your boys get the wrong idea?"

Spot's body vibrated with his chuckle, "We're not doin' anythin'. Just sleepin'. And if anyone wantsta question ya honah, I'll soak 'em. Awright?"

Smiling, she buried her face in the crook of his neck as he kissed her on top of her head. Inhaling the wonderful scent that was him, she closed her eyes and felt herself drift off into a deep, dreamless sleep.

When her eyes opened again they met a sight that sent longing straight to the depths of her soul. They were lying face to face, his eyes were open and he just stared back as a smile entered his sky blues and stretched across his face, "Moinin'." She decided he had the most wonderful smile she'd ever seen and he didn't do it nearly enough.

A blush crept up her cheeks, "Good morning." She smiled back until she noticed some things that hadn't been there the other night. Moving her hand up, she brushed his cheek lightly and then traced under his right eye, "Where did you get the bruise and black eye?" Her brows furrowed in confusion because they definitely hadn't been there before she fell asleep the first time and the second time it had been too dark to tell…

Something flashed in his eyes, "Uh, it was nothin'. Just a little scuffle last night with some of my boys."

Still confused, she accepted his explanation and yawned, "Guess we should get up, huh? Got to get to Manhattan."

Moving to crawl over him, she let out a squeal as he grabbed her around the waist and rolled her over so she was under him. Laughing, she pushed at his shoulders, "Ryan Perry." She told him mock-sternly, "Let me up. We have to start heading back."

He only smirked that insufferable smirk and dipped his head down to capture her lips. Asylum let out a sigh and arched into the kiss, as her hands ran up and down his back. Why could she not get enough of this boy? She had never wanted to throw herself into someone's arms, or kiss or fall asleep to anyone like she wanted to be with this person. Just being in his arms made her forget the past, forget the nightmares and the pain. She felt so whole, so bright. How could one person illicit such feelings? They had been apart for nearly six years but even though they had changed, he was still the person she felt the most comfortable around. At least, when she wasn't keeping a secret from him, she thought chagrined as he pulled back from her and gazed down into her eyes.

"Awright, now we can leave." He said, moving to get off her.

She let out an indignant 'humph' and wrapped her arms around his neck before he could move and pulled him down for a second kiss. It was shorter than the previous one but just as sweet. Breaking it, she rolled out from under him quickly and stood up as he groaned. "Ya a tease, Mina."

Smiling sweetly, she turned to a small looking glass on the wall and ran a hand through her hair and smoothed out her wrinkled shirt and trousers before slipping on her boots and heading for the door.

"Hang on." Spot said, putting a hand on her shoulder to stop her from going out the door. He turned to grab his cane, slipped his slingshot in his front pocket and grabbed his grey cabby hat. "Awright." Opening the door, he peered up and down the hallway, and then waved her out.

"Worried about my reputation?" She asked, giving him a smirk of her own.

Queue cocky grin, "Maybe." Was his reply, until he turned stern, "Stay here. I gotta wake up me boys and I'll send Race down."

She nodded and took a seat in a chair off to the side and waited for her boys like she would at the Manhattan lodging house. Crossing her legs, she sat back and gazed around. The Brooklyn lodging house was actually in better condition than the Manhattan counter-part.

Glancing out the dirty front window, she listened as Spot roused his boys and they began to file into their washroom. They were similar in sounds to that of Manhattan and she smiled at the easy going of things, trying to think positively about the future. Footsteps on the stairs brought her gaze back around to see Racetrack coming down, wiping the sleep from his eyes.

"G'moinin', 'Sy." He murmured as he stopped in front of her.

Asylum didn't reply because she had caught sight of his face and the bruises on his chin, cheek and a black eye to match Spot's. Not to mention Race's bottom lip was slightly swollen with just a bit of dry blood flaked in the corner of his mouth.

"What happened?" She asked darkly, standing up to brush a finger across the large bruise on his cheek. Anger began to thrum through her veins as she surveyed his face.

Race looked confused for a second and then embarrassed, "Ahh, it's nothin', 'Sy. Few of the boys were throwin' some friendly fists."

Her eyes turned ice cold, "I know when you're lying, Race. What the hell happened?"

Her friend's eyes widened at her language and the anger in her voice. He scratched the back of his head, "Spot and I just got into a little fight. It's no big deal–"

Asylum didn't hear the rest because she was already charging up the stairs in the direction the Brooklyn Leader had headed only a few minutes earlier.*

**A/N: Spot's in trouble! Lol, thank you to all who reviewed! I figured I'd update because I'll be gone most of the weekend. Tell me what you thought and what you think Asylum's going to do to Spot in a review!**

**Truly,**

**Joker is Poker with a J~  
**


	15. He's not use ta smart ones

**Ragged Army**

**Summary: Reports of young children going missing has swept through New York City. No clues, no leads to where they are being taken and if they're still alive. Only one girl seems to be attuned to the voices of the missing children…the problem? Everyone thinks she's insane… **

**Chapter 15**

*Spot was in the washroom washing his face when the door slammed open. Annoyed he looked up for the boy who was slamming things when he heard a few of his boys shouting and running to cover up. He was confused for the merest moment until his eyes met an angry pair of blue ones and he realized Asylum had just thrown open the door.

He raised an eyebrow but didn't say a word as she stalked menacingly towards him, ignoring all the half-clothed boys around them.

"Geez, Spot. Keep ya goils outta da washroom." Flint said, annoyed as he held a rag around his waist and walked out of the door. A few more grumbles were heard until Spot shot a glare around the room.

Asylum stopped right in front of him, "Are you a bully now?" She asked her voice low and harsh.

"Whatya talking about?" He asked, confused and glancing around to his boys.

The brunette gritted her teeth, "Are you, Spot Conlon, a bully? Because Race and I came here for your help and you attacked him _and_ you LIED TO ME ABOUT IT?" Her eyes were chips of ice and Spot glanced up behind her to see Race standing in the doorway shock clear on his face.

"'Sy." Race started, stepping into the washroom.

She glared daggers at Spot, "No, Race. Don't say anything. We're leaving. And you," She poked Spot on the chest, "are not coming with us. I can't believe you would do this." Anger coursed through her veins when she thought about the bruises on Race's face. Just because Spot was high and mighty being King of Brooklyn didn't mean he could go picking fights with everyone. Especially _not_ her best friend.

Turning, she made to leave but Spot reached out and grabbed her arm, spinning her around to face him, "Ya not going anywhere till ya hear me out."

"There's nothing to hear. You lied to me! And you beat up my best friend!" She folded her arms across her chest and glared at him.

"Hey, now. It was pretty evenly matched." Race cut in but Spot and Asylum ignored him.

Spot felt annoyance flash through him, "He said somethin' I didn't like. Alls I did was punch him. He's da one dat tackled me."

Asylum gave a small laugh, "So, if someone says something you don't like you go around punching them? Well, that answers my question! You are a bully! Race apparently tackled you in self defense! How dare you! Apologize to him, Spot." Her voice dropped lowly as she muttered that last part, pointing her finger back at Race.

Spot narrowed his eyes, "I ain't apologizin'. He desoived it."

"Apologize. Now."

"No." He folded his own arms and felt his anger beginning to boil over. He would not apologize, Race had insulted her.

Opening her mouth to argue she stopped when Race cleared his throat, "Asylum."

"What?" She snapped, still glaring at Spot whose own eyes had hardened. The washroom was quiet as the boys stood around, watching this stranger yell at their leader. Cheese stood near the door, smirking at the girl. Spot had picked himself a handful.

The Italian boy ran a hand through his hair, "He had every right to punch me."

"What?" Asylum broke her staring contest with Spot and turned to meet her best friend's brown eyes.

Rubbing the back of his neck, uncomfortable under her striking gaze, he told her, "I…might have said ya were crazy foah liking him." A few chuckles echoed through the washroom until Spot silenced them with that stony, cold look of his before he turned to Race.

Spot met his gaze over Asylum's head and he raised an eyebrow. Race shrugged helplessly, turning his eyes to the girl, "Ya know I didn't mean it, 'Sy. I just…"

Clenching his teeth, Spot cut in, "I may have…over-reacted. But, I ain't gonna apologize." He added sharply, "He shouldn'ta said dat about ya."

Asylum looked stumped for a split second and then she seemed to collect her bearings, "Well, you still shouldn't have lied to me about it. I'm not stupid, Spot. If you both have bruises on your face I can make the connection easily."

"He's not use ta smart ones." One of the boys called out causing chuckles through the crowd of Brooklyn Newsboys.

Spot bristled, "Don't ya boys have papes ta sell?" He told them, contemptuously.

Some shuffled, one brave one coughed and asked, "Can we'se get cleaned up and dressed foist?"

Asylum's face turned beet red, "Oh, yeah. Sorry." She gave them all a smile, small wave and hurried out of the room with Race following closely behind.

Cheese came over and slapped Spot on the back, "Got yaself a firecrackah, aye, Conlon?"

"She's definitely not like da othahs. Bettah lookin', too. Ya lookin' ta keep her around?" Magic asked jokingly, throwing an arm around Spot's shoulders.

Spot shot Magic a glare, "Yeah, Magic. So don't get any thoughts about her."

Chuckling, the dark-haired boy winked at Spot as he waltzed out of the washroom. Spot moved to follow but Cheese put a hand on his shoulder, "Calm down, Spot. Magic's just kidding. 'Sides, any of da boys can see she's head ovah feets foah ya."

"Dey don't even knows her." Spot said, moving out of the washroom with Cheese at his side but he felt a smirk pull up at the corner of his mouth.

Cheese laughed, "Dey don't need ta. Her stormin' in ta yell at ya was enough. Ain't no goil evah stood up ta ya. She ain't gonna take your shit like all da othahs."

Spot's smirk turned into a scowled that was directed at Cheese.

His second raised his hand in defense, "Don't get sour with me, Conlon, ya da one dat picked her."

Making no move to comment on that last part, Spot and Cheese strolled down the stairs together. Glancing up, Spot found his gaze slide right to Asylum who was leaning a shoulder against the wall turned towards Race who had his back against the same wall and they were talking in low voices.

He felt a small stab of jealousy, as memories of when they were younger and had sat in the small cell together trying to keep warm and whispering about everything from their past to their future. Clenching his fists, he kept the anger and bitterness down as he turned to Cheese, "Look, I'm taking them back ta Manhattan and I might stay foah a couple days. Any longer den dat and I'll send word. I'm trustin' ya, Cheese. Don't let me down."

Cheese nodded his bright, yellow head, "gotcha. I'll keep everything runnin' smoothly, boss."

"Dat's what I like ta hear." Spot tapped his cane on the ground and turned towards Race and Asylum. "Ready?" He asked, not looking at Asylum and turning to go out of the door assuming they'd follow.

They did but Asylum kept her distance for most of the walk. She refused to acknowledge him and it felt as if this morning's playfulness was far in the past. Race strolled up alongside Spot and put a cigar between his lips, "Don't worry. She'll get over it, never could hold grudges. Too much of a softie. Da youngah boys know dey can get away with most things when it comes ta her."

Spot sighed, not meeting the boy's eyes as he asked lowly, "Screwed up didn't I?"

Race shrugged, "I lied at foist, too. She just knows when I lyin'. That's how she figahed out we fought."

At one time she would have known when he was lying. Had they changed so much? Did he really doubt the feelings from so long ago? This morning came back to him and he shook his head, no he didn't doubt it. It was just a small fight, something he didn't really have much experience with but Race said she'd get over it. She would, wouldn't she? He had, after all, fought for her, even though it was with her best friend.

His pace quickened in frustration as they crossed the Brooklyn Bridge. The walk had taken most of the morning and it was nearing lunchtime when they reached Manhattan so they turned in the direction of Tibby's.

Race walked ahead of the two and strode into Tibby's. Asylum had walked the entire way in anger but she started feeling foolish as they neared the restaurant so she ran to catch up to Spot and she put a light hand on his forearm, "Spot?" She asked.

He slowed down and glanced back at her.

"Before we go in, can we talk?" She yearned to feel comfortable around him again, for it to be as easy as this morning was.

Nodding, he took her hand and they stepped into a nearby alley. It was silent for a moment as he avoided her eyes and then he clenched his teeth and ground out, "Whatya want from me? I ain't apologizin' foah hitting him."

"No." She said, "That's not what I wanted to talk about. I'm sorry for jumping to conclusions…" trailing off, she let her eyes fall to the ground; "I just wanted to say thanks. For standing up for me and…I'm sorry. For yelling at you in front of your boys. I was just so angry…"

He reached out and slipped his hand under her chin, bringing her eyes up to meet his, "I won't apologize for hittin' Race foah sayin' dat. But…Ise," He cleared his throat, not use to this apologizing business, "...sorry. Foah lyin' ta ya."

A bright smile appeared on her face that nearly knocked the breath out of him at how beautiful she was and she leaned up to peck him lightly on the cheek until he turned at the last minute and captured her lips. She sighed in bliss and wrapped her arms around his neck as the kiss began to heat up. They broke apart gasping and she felt her face burn red as she realized they were in public, albeit an alley, it was still inappropriate.

Spot gave her a cocky grin as he caught her blush and grabbed her hand as he headed towards Tibby's. He caught her anxious look as memories from the previous nightmares came back, "Spot? I can't tell them I dreamt about Snipeshooter. They'll think I'm mad."

He squeezed her hand, "It'll be awright. We won't say nothin' yet. Maybe we'll talk privately with Jack latah, awright?"

She nodded, feeling slightly better as they walked into the diner and headed over to where Jack, Blink and Race sat. Race was sitting in a chair at the end of the booth and Jack and Blink were on one side so Spot and Asylum slid in the other.

"Race and ya took a long walk, now didntya?" Jack asked, taking a sip of his drink.

Asylum shrugged, "We're fine aren't we?"

"Had me worried foah a bit, though, till Flash and Ruckus showed up. Next time tell me?" He waited for her nod before glancing down at Spot and hers clasped hands. He raised an eyebrow but didn't comment as he pulled something out of his pocket, "Oh, and dis came dis moinin' foah ya."

He tossed her an envelope with the name 'Asylum Perry' written on the front. She looked at it in confusion, but slid a finger to open the seal. She pulled out an elegant piece of paper that was folded in three sections and the words were written in a dark, burgundy red and a cold feeling crept over her as she began to read:

_My Dearest One,_

_It seems you survived after all. How shocking, I must say, but then, I knew you were a survivor from the moment I lay eyes on you. It was silly of me to think you could be killed so easily. Next time I will have to keep that in mind._

_I'd just like you to know I will be keeping an eye on you, at least until I can get my hands on you. Don't think you can hide behind some street rats for long. Money will control any man; don't think those boys are so different. Enjoy your time while you can. It won't be long, I should think._

_Do you like my red ink? I was not aware blood looked so beautiful on paper. Oh, your friend Snipeshooter sends his regards._

_Truly,_

_Blake_

Asylum felt her blood drain from her face and freeze in her veins as the letter dropped from her fingers.*

**A/N: Thank you again to all who keep on reviewing! It's really helpful to know whether you all are still enjoying this lol. Please review and tell me what you think of this chapter!**

**Truly,**

**Joker is Poker with a J~  
**


	16. An intensifying restlessness

**Ragged Army**

**Summary: Reports of young children going missing has swept through New York City. No clues, no leads to where they are being taken and if they're still alive. Only one girl seems to be attuned to the voices of the missing children…the problem? Everyone thinks she's insane… **

**Chapter 16**

*The entire table of newsboys watched as Asylum stiffened, paled and dropped the letter. Race and Spot immediately got on either side of the girl and looked over the letter together. When they had finished reading it, Spot slammed a hand on the table, "I'll moidah him!"

Jack and Blink shared a look as Race put an arm around her, "Shh, 'Sy."

Jumping to her feet, she pushed past Race and ran out of the door. Spot and Race were immediately on her heels, Jack not far behind as she turned down the closest alley and vomited. Race pulled her hair back as Spot rubbed her back. She coughed a few times before managing, "Get that letter as far from me as possible."

Spot had been clutching it in his hand and he motioned for Race to hand him a match. Together, the two set the letter on fire and watched it burn down to ash. Asylum had her back to them the entire time. She wiped her mouth cleaned and groaned, there hadn't been much to toss up, mostly stomach acid, but it was enough to make her feel absolutely horrid. Tears streamed down her cheeks from throwing up, and she quickly wiped them away as Spot and Race came back over to rub her back.

Looking up at them gratefully, she opened her mouth to thank them when she was cut off by Jack, "Awright, I want ansahs."

She turned her attention to the Manhattan leader, "It's a long story, Jack."

He gave her a look, "I got da time, Perry."

So, the four headed back to the Lodging House and up to the roof to have a private discussion. Asylum told Jack the whole of her sordid past, leaving out the fact that Spot was the boy named Ryan who had managed to escape. After the background of her past, she then launched into a few of the nightmares she'd been having.

Jack sat down heavily on the side of the roof and gazed down at the street, contemplating everything Asylum had told him. Spot was on the other side, his back to Jack, Race and Asylum lost in thought it seemed.

Race had an arm tossed around Asylum's shoulders, a cigar sticking out of the corner of his mouth. He squeezed her shoulders in support as Jack kept quiet for a long time. Finally, Jack turned to meet Asylum's gaze, "Do ya think ya can find out where dis place is in da next dream?"

She shrugged, "I can only try, Jack." Though inwardly she shuddered in fear at having more nightmares of those poor boys being tortured as she had once been, because for some reason witnessing it was harder than having to go through it yourself. Especially when all you could do was float there and not have the ability to stop things.

Spot glared over at Jack but he kept his mouth shut. There wasn't a damn thing he could do to keep Asylum from having these dreams and if it helped save those boys it was good, right? He couldn't help but wonder how these nightmares might take a toll on her emotionally, though. It was enough to have a past you wanted to forget, but to have it haunt you with new memories every night was enough to drive anyone insane.

Jack nodded his head and heaved a sigh, "Dis Blake guy sounds bat shit crazy. What's he look like?"

"The way he works he'll have a price on my head." She thought about the line in the letter, 'Money will control any man; don't think those boys are so different.' And felt her insides stir in nerves, "Anyone who knows of this 'price' will come after me. No telling who it is…" she trailed off as an image of Blake entered her mind, "He's got an olive complexion. Definitely Italian and his eyes are dark brownish black, you can barely see where the pupil ends and the iris begins. Probably as tall as you, just about."

They all nodded and mulled that over in silence for awhile because while it helped narrow it down, the description was vague in that it could very well be any Italian guy in all of New York and there were quite a few of those. All of a sudden Asylum's stomach gave a loud growl. Spot immediately gravitated toward her, "Come on; let's get ya somethin' ta eat."

"I'm fine." Asylum said, embarrassed.

The Brooklyn Leader raised an eyebrow, "I haven't seen ya eat all day, plus ya threw up. Ya gotta eat more."

She relented as he towed her down the fire escape. Race and Jack found themselves alone and they both looked at each other. "What's dat about, Race?"

Race shrugged, not willing to tell his best friends' secrets. Not to mention Spot wouldn't be keen on Jack knowing his past. "What's it look like, Cowboy?"

For a moment, Jack studied him and then a light went off, "She had a friend dat escaped when she was eleven…Spot toined up in Brooklyn when he was twelve…Asylum gave her heart away and now dey's tagetha! Spot's Ryan." Jack looked pleased he'd figured it out on his own, until it dawned on him, "But Spot's still gotta rep."

Race nodded, but shrugged, "It's her choice, Jack. Dere's nothin' we can do 'bout it."

Jack sighed in frustration, "As if I don't gotta lot on me mind, Race!"

Rolling his eyes, the Italian boy headed down to find someone to play poker with but stopped on the first rung to tell Jack seriously, "She's gotta lot on her mind, too, Jack. She's been livin' all bottled up foah a while and now da fate of dese boys is on her shouldahs 'cause of dreams she don't even want and ta top it off da same guy dat has 'em wants her, too." He paused to give Jack a moment to think that over before adding, "Plus, she thinks she's crazy and she thinks we all think she's crazy."

"Only crazy person is dis Blake guy. But yeah, Race, ya right." Jack said finding it slightly amusing that Race was reprimanding him, "Ya know ya don't get enough credit. Ya pretty obsoivant."

Race took a drag from his cigar, "Imma gamblah, Jack. Ise suppose ta be able ta read people."

***Later that night***

Though she was exhausted from the events of the day and selling the evening edition with Spot and Fang, Asylum couldn't seem to fall asleep that night. Fear of her nightmares, of Blake and of seeing those poor boys being tortured kept her wide awake and she laid there in her bed staring out the window and watching the drops of rain slide down the glass.

Finally, she couldn't take it anymore. She went to the top of the steps and listened for any soft whispers. When she was sure everyone was fast asleep, she slipped silently down the stairs and into the bunkroom, slinking across to the bed in the corner that was usually vacant unless a guest stayed over. He was laying there, his hands behind his head staring out the window close to his own bed but he glanced over as she approached.

Immediately moving over, he silently allowed her to curl up against his side. He wrapped his arms around her and whispered softly in her ear, "Anothah nightmare?"

She shook her head, "I can't fall asleep. I'm scared." She hated admitting it to out loud, but she felt so vulnerable and even though it'd been a long time since they'd been together he had always been the person she trusted the most.

Spot's arms tightened briefly around her and they laid there in the dark listening to the breathing, mumblings and snores from the surrounding newsies until Spot glanced down and realized Asylum had fallen asleep. He suddenly felt elated that she was beginning to let him in. This was a milestone because not only had they had a fight and made up, but she trusted him enough to come to him.

As suddenly as the elation began it started to fade and in its place was a feeling Spot Conlon did not like. It was a feeling of doubt because what Racetrack had said to him was beginning to make its way into his heart like little shards of glass. He had been selfish, running off and leaving her in that place to fend for herself, how could she so easily take him back after that? How could she forgive him after all she'd been through?

His gaze fell down to her face as she slept seemingly peaceful. Spot wondered if she were dreaming of a place far from the building her body resided in. Whether it was in a small house out in the country with him, a dream she use to tell him about when -at the beginning- it was just him and her in that cell or whether it was those horrific dreams about the boys in captivity with the same man who had tortured her multiple times.

Feeling humbled, he lay there the rest of the night, sleepless and guarding over her protectively until sky lightened and he shook her awake so she could go to her room before the others awoke.

Rubbing her eyes, she left as soundlessly as she had come and the part of the bed she had occupied turned cold. He forced himself to get up and get ready. Just as he was drying his face off, the Manhattan boys began to stream into the washroom.

Just as he was leaving, he watched Jack slip up the stairs to Asylum's room and he quietly followed. Asylum was just coming down herself when Jack reached her, "Moinin', 'Sy. Ya find anythin' out?"

She shook her head, "No, Jack. I didn't dream at all." Her gaze slid past him to Spot who was leaning against the wall listening.

There was something in her eyes he couldn't interpret and decided he'd ask her about later, when Jack wasn't around. Jack sighed in frustration and ran a hand through his hair, "Alright. Let me know when ya have anything."

He turned around to leave and caught sight of Spot. Surprise flitted across his face before he smoothed it out, slipped past Spot and headed to the washroom to get ready for another day of selling. Spot and Asylum stood there in silence, just staring at each other before she started down and continued past him to go to the lobby where she usually waited for Race and Fang.

Spot turned the opposite way to grab his cane, hat and slingshot before heading back down. He hoped to catch her before Race got down there but the Italian boy was already leaning against the counter talking to her as Spot took the stairs two at a time.

"Heya, Spot." Race said as he put a cigar in his mouth.

"Don't even t'ink about lighting dat in here, Race." Kloppman told the boy sternly.

Racetrack rolled his eyes, "When'd ya become such a sticklah, Kloppman?" He asked while heading out the door mumbling angrily.

Asylum smiled after him and glanced at Spot, "He needs his cigar in the morning or he's cranky all day." She told him lightly, her eyes sparkling.

Spot couldn't find the smile to return as he leaned against the counter where Race had been and turned to gaze into her eyes silently. Asylum shifted, dipped her head and then finally brought her eyes up to meet his. Determined, she opened her mouth to tell him her recent thoughts just as the boys started clomping down the stairs noisily.

Hopping off the counter she took Spot's hand and squeezed it lightly, silently promising to tell him what she hadn't had a chance to yet. She dropped his hand, aware that he had a reputation he wanted to protect but felt her face heat up when he slipped his hand in hers and intertwined their fingers. He led her out the door and in the direction of the distribution center as Blink and Mush whistled out catcalls to make Asylum's blush turn a deeper red.

"You two better stop it." She told them sternly, a small smile playing on her lips so they knew she wasn't serious.

Blink laughed while Mush winked and threw an arm around her shoulders, "Come on, 'Sy. You knows we like ta make ya blush. 'Sides, it's a miracle ta see Spot holding a goils hand." He laughed as he dropped his arm from her shoulders and dodged out of the way of Spot's cane.

The brunette laughed, which caught the four all by surprise. She had just barely managed a few smiles that hadn't quite reached her eyes these last few days and the laughter from her morning with Spot the day before felt like forever ago.

Her laugh was a domino effect, causing the three boys to smile brightly at her. When it was done, she smiled back shyly as Blink and Mush ran off ahead of them. Meeting Spot's eyes, she felt her breath catch at the emotion behind them before she turned her head to the front and let herself fall into her thoughts.

She let herself dwell on the conclusion she had come to in her room this morning and it sufficiently sobered her up. Last night she had slept as soundlessly as the dead and the night before when she had gone to sleep the second time that night with Spot, not to mention the night she had Fang stay in her room and the night after that when Race had come up to check on her. It was becoming clear to her that she only had the bad dreams when she fell asleep by herself.

She ran a hand through her hair in frustration because it wasn't making sense. Just because someone slept beside her she didn't have nightmares? It was ridiculous but it was looking to be true the more she thought about it. Should she test the theory tonight? Fall asleep in her room and dream of the kidnapped children?

Another thought occurred to her, one that was cowardly but she couldn't help but think about. She didn't have to have these horrendous nightmares, not if she fell asleep next to Spot every night. It was almost too good to be true…except Spot wouldn't be around forever and eventually she planned to leave New York and then where would she be? Far away with haunting dreams of children being tortured, that's where.

Sickened at the direction her thoughts were taking, she looked up to find they were in line at the distribution center already. Glancing over, she caught Spot staring blankly ahead his face a cool mask.

"Spot?" she asked lightly, breaking him out of his thoughts.

"Yeah?" He asked, gruffly turning to meet her eyes.

Asylum tilted her head, wondering what he was thinking about but she didn't ask, "You alright?" She asked, her brow wrinkling in concern.

"Yeah. I'm fine." He sounded distracted to her, though, and he let his gaze turn away and he continued to stare blankly with that mask to hide what he was feeling. She scrutinized him for a moment, noticing subtle hints that he hadn't exactly slept well last night. His eyes drooped only slightly, light rings under his eyes and his shoulders weren't as stiff and arrogant as he usually kept them.

Had she kept him up all night? Was it her fault he got so little sleep? That made her decision for her. Tonight she'd test the theory on going to sleep alone and hopefully Spot would get some sleep without her hogging up his bed.

Slipping her hand out of his, she walked up to the window and got her usual amount of papers and stood next to Race to wait for Spot.

"You awright?" Race asked her.

She shrugged, "Just worried."

Race put an arm around her shoulders and hugged her close to his side, "Spot and I we ain't gonna let anything happen to ya."

"I know." She said, and she did. At least, not if they could help it but what if they couldn't? What if Blake got to her and hid her away to continue to slowly kill her while Spot and Race scoured the city for her? Wasn't it just better if she left and saved them all the hassle?

But what about Snipeshooter? About the little boy who was branded as forty-seven? What about those little girls? She was the only person who could potentially save them, she couldn't abandon them to the same experiences she had had.

With her decision made and her renewed determination set, she headed to her usual corner with Spot and Race making sure that Fang and the others were each with an older boy. She put her all into selling and was the first one to finish. Helping both the boys finish off their own papers, they headed to Tibby's for lunch as if it were any other day though Asylum could feel something building in them all. An intensifying restlessness that was just under the surface of every one of the newsies and Asylum was sure that it wouldn't be long before things began to boil over.*

**A/N: So, this is actually 16 and 17 combined. A snap decision I made the other night and I decided I liked it. It's kind of pointless but shows some of the thoughts behind our favorite characters! Pretty long, I know. Well, long compared to the others! I'm going to start chapter 17 tomorrow and get it up as soon as I can! Thanks to all who have and please review!**

**Truly,**

**Joker is Poker with a J~  
**


	17. starting to slip away

**Ragged Army**

**Summary: Reports of young children going missing has swept through New York City. No clues, no leads to where they are being taken and if they're still alive. Only one girl seems to be attuned to the voices of the missing children…the problem? Everyone thinks she's insane… **

**Chapter 17**

*Blake leaned back in his chair, ignoring the sniffles and whimpering of the boy that lay on the table behind him and turned his attention to the man before him. "Joseph, Joseph, Joseph. It's been a week and you have yet to bring me the girl. Wasn't my offer more than generous?" He suppressed a smirk as Joe shifted uncomfortably.

Joe twirled the edges of his mustache as he contemplated how to break the news, "Ya see, Boss, Frank'll be all better in a day or two and I don't think I can get her all by myself. She always has that damn Italian boy and Spot Conlon with her. Plus, we know she can fight."

The Italian man narrowed his eyes on the sorry sop before him, "What happened to Jerry?" He asked the question even though he already knew exactly what had happened and he was not happy about it.

Uncomfortable under those cold, dead eyes, the man replied, "Well, Jerry bailed out. Said what we was doin' wasn't worth da money…"

Blake stood up, towering over the man's short stature, "What was your solution to him leaving?" Again, he already knew but he needed to hear the man confess it.

"I-I…let him go…"

Raising his arm, Blake let his fist connect with Joe's face and watched in silent satisfaction as Joe stumbled back and hit the floor. "Joe, you know better than to just let someone walk away. I'm guessing Jerry paid you to let him go and I'm guessing it is a sufficient fund to last you for awhile. You don't have to kill him and you don't have to go after the girl right away, a win-win for you. But, Joe, you underestimate me because I am much smarter than you and I always know what's going on." He raised an eyebrow at the man on the ground, knowing in the back of his mind just exactly how terrified this man was of him and it was a gratifying feeling.

Grabbing Joe by the front of his shirt, Blake brought his face close to his own. His expression was dark and his eyes unforgiving as he told him in a low voice "Go find Jerry. Kill him. No one quits this. If you do this, I might forgive you. But, keep in mind that you are _not_ irreplaceable. There are plenty of other stupid, henchmen that would kill to make as much money getting me what I want."

Blake let go of the guys shirt and watched in satisfaction as the guy crawled back to get away from him before standing and fleeing the room. He turned his attention back to the boy lying on the 'torture table'. Snipeshooter, the boy was called, stared back at him through brown eyes that reminded him of his younger brother and Blake did not like to remember the past. Lucky for the boy that was where the similarities ended or else he'd have an experience that was close to One's.

Taking a step towards the boy, he studied his work. The boys left hand was beginning to scab over where he denailed him and the bruises where turning yellow. He had brought the boy here to torture for a bit more information but Joseph had sufficiently ruined his mood for it.

"You're lucky, Snipes." He told the boy, "You get a reprieve today. Aren't I a nice guy?"

Snipeshooter looked at him fearfully and did not comment.

"Tell me about these boys that are always with our girl, hmm? What's this italian boys' name? Describe this Spot Conlon. Why are these two so close to her?" He raised his eyebrows expectantly, knowing the boy would tell him anything after the ten days of torture. Truthfully, he didn't even need to do anything; the boy had been willing to tell him everything since the first time he ripped his nails off. It was just so much fun seeing how much a person could take before they cried, screamed or went unconscious.

Snipeshooter did not want to offer up any more information on his friends, his family. But, the pain had just been too much and he was terrified he'd feel it again. Most especially, he did not want to give up information on Race. Race had always been like a big brother to him, sharing his cigars and wisdom. There was no way he'd tell this crazy man anything more about his friends. He'd already broken about Asylum, something he'd always regret because Asylum had always treated him with a respect most of the older kids didn't show the younger ones.

Instead of giving an answer he stayed obstinately silent. Blake continued to stare at him, waiting for the boy to tell him about his friends. When a long period slid by and the boy still refused, Blake almost smirked at the boys loyalty to his friends. Deciding this could wait a day, Blake grabbed the boy by his hair and pulled him off the table so his body hit the cement floor and dragged him down the hall to the cell closest. "Tomorrow," Blake told him, shoving him inside, "you _will_ tell me what I want to hear. I would have let you tell me today without harm, tomorrow I won't be so kind."

Snipeshooter glared hatefully at the man's back but he quaked with fear at the threat and the promise of pain.

…..

Spot pounded on the door to Asylum's room, "Mina, open up." For the last week she had been distant, hadn't come to him at night if she was scared and had locked her door and window so he couldn't come and see _her_ at night. She had been a ghost of herself lately. Selling papers, eating lunch, and coming back to sleep only to wake up screaming at the top of her lungs while they pounded on her locked door because she refused to keep it unlocked.

"Go away, Spot." Asylum told him wearily through the door.

"I'm not going anywhere till ya open up." He stated adamantly. She had told him about her theory of not having nightmares when someone slept beside her and he longed to give her a peaceful nights rest but she wouldn't _let_ him. He wanted to shake some sense into her; she couldn't keep up with this nightmare after nightmare without ill effects. Spot could already feel her starting to slip away.

Asylum glared at the door from the other side as Spot pounded on it again. She was a grown woman; she knew what she was doing. She didn't need them hovering over her day after day, worried that she'd have a break down from all the nightmares. "Spot," She said, "I'm fine. Leave it alone."

She heard the unmistakable thump as he hit his cane on the floor, "Mina Veronica Campbell, open dis door right now."

Her heart gave a small tug at the mention of her full name and the man who knew so much about her forcing her to walk over, turn the lock and open the door. Raising her eyes to meet his, she suddenly felt the exhaustion hit her full force. Turning before he could see it she stumbled over to her mattress and sat down heavily while her thoughts began to suck her in.

Every morning Jack would look to her hopefully and every morning she would shake her head. No, she hadn't seen any clues in the nightmares. Not yet. A whole week and not one dream made her feel like she could float around like the one she had had of Snipeshooter. She was forced to watch him torture Snipeshooter and child after child every night until she woke up in tears, screaming for him to stop because she had no voice in the dreams.

Putting her head in her hands, she felt the mattress dip as Spot sat down beside her and put an arm around her shoulders. "You need ta rest, Mina. Take a break from these nightmares." He told her gently.

Too tired to argue she found herself crawling under the covers. Spot pulled them up to her chin and she smiled at him, "What would your boys say if they saw you tucking me in all sweetly?"

"Dey wouldn't." He told her seriously and then let that arrogant smirk form along his lips.

She stared at him as he brushed her hair out of her face and felt sad that she wouldn't be able to keep him forever. Wishing he would hold her but not daring to ask, she turned away from him and curled up, "I'm sorry, Ryan." She murmured to him.

"For what?" He asked, honestly confused.

Sighing, she answered quietly, "Being crazy, having nightmares. Keeping you from sleeping last week."

"Is dat why ya haven't come ta me?" He furrowed his eyebrows.

She nodded before drifting off to sleep. Running a hand through his hair, he sat there as her breathing grew even and pondered what to do. He had been away from Brooklyn for a week and was beginning to grow restless, though he was getting constant updates from his birds. Cheese kept his word and was keeping everything running smoothly which was a good and a bad thing. While he trusted Cheese and his ability, he was still the leader. Spot glanced at Asylum but couldn't bring himself to leave her to go back home. Would it come down to a choice between her and Brooklyn?

A light knock brought his attention to the door and his eyes met the brown eyes of Jack. He motioned to Asylum fast asleep and put a finger to shush the Manhattan leader. Jack nodded and waved him over to the door. Casting a long look at her he got up and walked over to Jack.

"What, Jacky-boy?" He asked, disgruntled.

Jack nodded to her, "How she doing?"

"Bettah if ya wasn't up here botherin' her." He replied curtly.

Narrowing his eyes, Jack began, "Look, Spot, Ise know she cares foah ya but be careful. Asylum's fragile, she don't need ta be jerked around. I don't wanna hear ya forced her ta do somethin' she didn't want ta." Just as he finished his lecture his eyes moved past the angry Brooklyn leader to see Asylum sit up.

Spot turned to see what Jack was looking at and was surprised to see Asylum standing up, "Ya should be sleepin'." He told her just as she turned to face him.

"Damn." Jack cursed and nearly took a step back as Asylum started forward her eyes glazed over, "Is she sleepwalkin'?"

She continued past them in slow, calculated steps as her arms swung stiffly at her sides. "Come on, we gotta follah her." Spot ordered, grabbing his cane and quickly tailing the girl, Jack on his heels.*

**A/N: Uh oh, what will sleep walking reveal? Is Asylum slowly going even crazier? Will Spot have to choose between her and Brooklyn? And just how far is Blake willing to go to get Asylum back? Questions to ponder while you review! **

**Truly,**

**Joker is Poker with a J~  
**


	18. So that's Spot Conlon

**Ragged Army**

**Summary: Reports of young children going missing has swept through New York City. No clues, no leads to where they are being taken and if they're still alive. Only one girl seems to be attuned to the voices of the missing children…the problem? Everyone thinks she's insane… **

**Chapter 18**

*The rain misted over the city of New York in a fog that sent most indoors and as the night's shadows began to creep over the streets and buildings it seemed as if only four people were still out. Three young men trailed the steps of a woman as she glided down the sidewalk as her eyes stared sightlessly ahead.

Asylum was unaware of her surroundings as she moved forward. All she knew was the sounds of children crying that echoed through her mind and with each step they got ever louder and she knew she was getting closer.

Spot, Race and Jack cautiously followed her making sure no one was lurking in the alley's they passed. More of the boys would have followed but Jack had told them to stay back as an entire lodging house of newsboys following a girl down a street would look suspicious.

"Look, she's goin' tawards Brooklyn." Race whispered as she turned towards the Brooklyn Bridge.

"Good. If we run inta trouble my boys'll be dere." Spot replied, staying as close to Asylum as he could without actually touching her.

The walk across the bridge seemed to take forever and only when they finally reached Brooklyn soil did Spot let out the smallest breath of relief. There was just something about his city that set him at ease.

Not even a block into Brooklyn, Flash was at Spot's side, "What's goin' on?"

Spot turned from Asylum, letting himself trust in Jack and Race as he spoke to Flash, "She's takin' us somewhere. Keep Cheese updated by way of me boids, we'll probably be back tonight. If ya don't hear back from any of us by dawn, somethin' is da mattah."

Flash nodded, his face set serious, "Right. I'll make shoah dere's a boid somewhere on da four a ya at all times so we knows where ya are."

Nodding to the boy, Spot turned back to Race, Jack, and Asylum about a block ahead of him and he ran to catch up. They weaved through Brooklyn going through dark alleyways and heading ever deeper into the heart of Spot's territory. As suddenly as they were in the heart of Brooklyn they were moving away and the three boys began to realize they were heading to the border of Brooklyn and Queens.

"Foah a moment, Ise t'ought da Blake guy would be in Brooklyn." Race remarked, casting a glance out of the corner of his eye to the Brooklyn Leader.

Spot's fists clenched around his cane, "Nah, I know Brooklyn. I woulda recognized da guy."

"Queens was having the worse trouble with kids goin' missing…dis explains it." Jack muttered, fidgeting impatiently as they noticed Asylum slowing down. Only three blocks into Queens and she stopped suddenly causing the three to nearly crash into her.

In the stygian darkness of the night an abandoned warehouse sat as silent as a mountain. Not an ounce of light lit the street they were on but their eyes had become accustom to the darkness and they could see the outline of someone on the front steps. Race and Spot grabbed Asylum and pulled her into the alley next to the warehouse as Jack quickly followed.

Peeking around the corner, Jack sighed in relief, "Looks like he's dozing off."

"Dat was close." Race muttered, fingers twitching for a cigar.

Asylum blinked her eyes, "Spot? Race? Wha-where are we?" She looked around, confused.

Spot put a hand over her mouth and leaned into to whisper, "Ya sleep walked all da way ta Queens. Dis is da buildin' ya stopped at. There's a guy out front so be quiet."

Eyes wide she gave him a sharp nod just as a sound pierced through the darkness. The foursome all froze at the sound and exchange long looks.

"'Sy!" The sound was a voice and a familiar one to her. But why was he here? Ice cold fear settled and she started towards the sound.

"Mina, no!" Spot whispered harshly, reaching out and grabbing her, "It could be a trap."

Struggling, she tried to continue as the voice cried out again and this time there was fear behind it. "That's Fang. He needs me."

Race, Jack, and Spot exchanged looks knowing how much Fang meant to her. Sighing, Spot pushed her towards Jack, "Stay here. I'll go find him."

Before she could protest, Spot's form disappeared into the dark and they waited for a long time in silence. Asylum began to fidget as the seconds ticked away, wondering silently how Fang had found them, what he was doing here and where _were_ they? She couldn't remember anything since she lay down next to Spot except the faint echoes of a child crying.

Glancing up at the building, she felt a stab of recognition. It seemed Blake hadn't moved his activities after he thought he'd killed her. Of course, she hadn't known she was in Queens having been locked up since she was six. Ironically, only a borough away was Ryan this entire time.

Suddenly, Spot was jogging towards them, "Awright, I found him. He's with one of me boids headin' back ta Brooklyn. He follahed us all the way here," Spot shook his head in exasperation, "You'll see him when we're done here." He directed that last sentence at Asylum and she breathed a little better.

"What do we need to do here?" She asked, casting a fleeting look to the immense and rather daunting building that housed forlorn children and her greatest fear.

"Scout out da perimetah." Was Spot's short reply. He squared his shoulders and tapped his cane before he continued, "Race, I want ya ta go around back. Be careful not ta be seen. Look foah anyway in and see how many othah guys there might be on guard duty."

Race didn't even cast Jack a glance, only nodded and turned to carry out the order. Asylum opened her mouth to argue with Spot for ordering Race around but thought better of it and snapped her mouth shut. This was Spot Conlon, the King of Brooklyn, not Ryan Perry. She doubted whatever feelings he had for her would come in the way of being the leader she was standing in front of at this moment.

"Jack," He continued, not even batting a lash, "Watch her while I go around da othah way." With that confidence in others to obey his word, he turned and crept back into the shadows in which he'd come.

Asylum turned to meet Jack's brown eyes, "So that's Spot Conlon."

Jack gave a low chuckle, "Yea, surprised ya just meetin' him now. Most nevah see any othah side." He tossed an arm around her shoulders and brought her back against the warehouse, "I know ya like him, but be careful. I don't know how much of da kid's left in him dat ya knew."

She held the hand that was around her shoulders trying to hide the shaking of her own as she glanced around wearily, "I don't even know if I'll live to find out." Biting her lip, she couldn't force away the feeling that something was going to go very wrong.

"Hey, don't tawk like dat." Jack reprimanded, "If there's one thing I learned from da Strike its dat things have a way of woikin' demselves out. We'll save them, all of them and nothin's gonna happen ta ya." His voice was soft and barely a whisper but it did the trick. Asylum felt her shoulders square and she stiffened her spine, optimistic that Race and Spot would be back at any moment.

They played the waiting game for what seemed like hours but could have only been one at the most. Jack and her both stiffened as footsteps echoed lightly to their left and they both turned, expecting the worse but relaxing when Race stopped in front of them. He glanced around for Spot, but Asylum just shook her head at him.

Another thirty minutes later and Asylum was so wired from nerves her whole body was beginning to shake. Footsteps, now to their right, made all three turn and nearly tackle the poor kid. It wasn't Spot like they suspected, though – it was Flash.

"Where's Spot?" He asked, which did not comfort any of them and wound Asylum up even more.

Asylum found herself angry and she stepped forward so she was in his face, "What do you mean, you're his bird shouldn't you know where he is?"

Race put a restraining hand on her shoulder, "'Sy, don't bully him. He's doin' his best."

Another set of footsteps and Spot came out of the darkness behind Flash, "Quiet it down. There are two othah guards and they ain't sleepin'." He spoke sharply and did not meet Asylum's eyes.

A rush of relief coursed through her veins and she almost wanted to throw herself in his arms to make sure he was real and not just an illusion but she held back when he made no move towards her. For some reason he was distant and cold.

Nodding to Flash, who instantly blended with the shadows and disappeared, Spot jerked his head in the direction they had come, "Let's get back ta Brooklyn. We'll stay there da night."

Silently, they made their way back to Brooklyn single file through alley after alley with Jack at the front, Asylum, Race and Spot bringing up the rear. They only relaxed once they were a block from the lodging house.

"Close call there." Race mumbled, yawning as he pulled out a cigar.

Asylum wrapped her arms around her, the cold dread not dissipating any less now that they had put some distance between them and the warehouse where Blake resided. She felt as if any moment he'd grab her from behind and drag her back to the place of her nightmares. That feeling of optimism that ran through Jack and Race she found she could not share.

As Race and Jack took the front steps two at a time, Spot hung back and touched Asylum's hand gently so she turned to him with a questioning gaze. Once they were inside and out of ear shot, Spot ran a hand through his hair, "I didn't mean ta worry ya."

The brunette in front of him shrugged, not entirely meeting his eyes, "You couldn't help it, just doing your leaderly duties. I didn't mean to freak out on Flash like that, though."

This dark chasm seemed to open between them as they stood there awkwardly until finally Spot couldn't take the silence and told her, his tone dark as the night around them, "Look, Mina, I'm da leadah. I gotta be tough. Othahwise, I'm not respected."

"I understand."

He leaned against the steps and attempted to light a cigarette but the rain that was falling prevented it. Sighing, he threw the now wet cigarette and they stood there in silence.

Finally, Asylum turned to go up the steps and stopped at the top, not turning to look at him as she asked, "Are we sleeping in your bed?" She tried to keep the vulnerability from her voice and was unsure if she succeeded when a long silence met her question. Wanting to kick herself, she added hastily, "I understand if you don't. I can always share a bed with Race."

Before she finished her sentence he had taken the steps two at a time and was pulling her into the building, "Like hell ya will." He muttered, dragging her down the hall into his room, determined to fix things between them before they went to sleep. He pushed her inside and turned as someone called out to him, "We'll tawk tomorrah, Cheese." He told his second as he shut his door and turned to Asylum.*

**A/N: Soo, I'm not getting as many reviews as I use to. What have I done to lose you all? You guys have GOT to let me know if I'm doing something wrong or else I won't be able to change anything! Please let me know how I'm doing in a review. It really does help us authors out!**

**Truly,**

**Joker is Poker with a J~  
**


	19. greed

**Ragged Army**

**Summary: Reports of young children going missing has swept through New York City. No clues, no leads to where they are being taken and if they're still alive. Only one girl seems to be attuned to the voices of the missing children…the problem? Everyone thinks she's insane… **

**Chapter 19**

*Spot turned slowly and studied her as she stopped in front of the window. She had wrapped her arms around her middle in a protective manner; her dark hair fell down her back while she tilted her head just so to gaze up at the sky that was beginning to lighten. He detected a slight bittersweet emotion in her eyes and he realized this moment with her standing just as she was would forever be locked in his memories. His Mina, who had went through the pits of hell and had come out still seeing the good in people. He marveled at her silently until her voice broke through his musings.

"We've been out all night." She commented.

Taking off his cabby hat, he tossed it onto the bed and walked over to stand next to her. "Da roof has a great view of da sunrise. But, with all dis rain we won't see anythin'."

Asylum turned her eyes from outside to meet his fire blue eyes, "Spot Conlon, watcher of sunrises."

He let his mouth quirk up, "Don't ya foahget it, neither." He told her, mock sternly waving his cane in front of her.

Whatever had been blocking them fell away as fast as it had been brought up. She seemed much more comfortable with this part of him than his usual demeanor. "I've always been more of a sunset girl." She told him thoughtfully.

"Yeah?" He asked, leaning his cane against the wall and moving towards the bed.

Nodding, she moved away from the window, pulled off her boots, and crawled into the bed first. "Yeah. I love to watch it after selling the evening edition. I use to love rain but I find I'm beginning to hate it."

Sliding in next to her, he instinctively wrapped his arms around her and pulled her close, "Ya awright?"

Asylum loved these beautiful, rare moments with him. It made her ache to think of how haunting they'd be when she'd find herself alone. When all was said and done, she'd give him up whether she wanted to or not because he needed to know the truth.

And the truth was she wasn't strong enough for a man like him.

Or anyone for that matter, which made her sad because giving up Ryan would mean giving up on ever having a family. Ever being a mother. She let her hand drop to her abdomen and she stroked it lightly, knowing that she was probably crazy for wanting something so much.

"Ya sleep?" His voice was only a whisper in the room and she felt herself turn over so that she could see him face to face in the early light.

"No."

His eyes met hers, "I won't let anythin' happen ta ya, Mina. I promise."

"I know." They kept reassuring her, as if she didn't know.

Exhaustion swept over her and she became too tired to think about the future, the children and even the depth of Ryan's personality. She leaned up and kissed him lightly on the lips before she felt her eyelids grow heavy and she drifted off into a dreamless unconsciousness.

Spot laid there for a long time, trying to fall asleep. For some reason, though, he couldn't seem to. Not with Mina in his arms or a war at his door, because this thing with Blake would be a war. He could feel it. They couldn't get the bulls there, even if they would believe a bunch of street rats. No, his boys and him would have to go in and attempt to rescue the kids.

He wondered briefly if he could go in without risking them, but decided he couldn't. Not if Blake had half as many men there as he use to. Perhaps he could get help from the other Burroughs, though he inwardly winced at calling in favors. It couldn't be helped, nonetheless because Three would, without a doubt, still be there and Blake would have continued his training. Glancing down at Mina, he pushed the idea away of them two going in together. As much as their shared fighting experience would come in handy, he did not want her anywhere near Blake.

When he heard the unmistakable murmurs and footfalls that signaled the newsies coming back at noon from selling the morning edition, he slowly extracted himself from Mina, grabbed his cane and went out to meet his boys. Cheese was walking in just as he shut his door and turned to face his second. "Miss me, Cheese?" He asked, coming down the hallway.

"Glad ta see ya back without a scratch." Cheese told him, clapping him on the shoulder, "How's ya girl?"

"Gettin' some much needed rest." Spot told him simply.

Cheese studied him, "Looks like youse need some of dat."

Spot raised a cool eyebrow, though he didn't reply right away. Cheese was his second-in-command for a reason and that was because he understood what it took. While some men were meant to be leaders, others were meant to be the seconds in life. It took a strong man to back a leader and offer loyalty while at the same time having no intention to start a mutiny. Cheese was just such a person. Spot knew he could trust him inexplicably.

Turning to go back down the hall, passing his room where Mina slept, he opened the door to the room where he always went for private chats and motioned Cheese in. Cheese slipped in without question and waited for Spot to speak.

"Ise found out a lot while in 'hattan." He began, leaning against the far wall. "I know who's behind da kidnappin's. Where dey are."

Cheese took a step forward, "Yeah? So ya think we can get Chance back?"

Spot saw the hope and desperation in Cheese's eyes and wondered that he and Mina were so alike. Both had soft spots when it came to the younger children, not to mention they were push-over's. He hid the smirk that pulled up the corners of his mouth when he remembered a memory from a couple months ago when all the young boys had latched themselves onto Cheese. It had been quite a sight to see five small boys hanging on every limb of the large young man.

"Yeah, Cheese, I t'ink we can get 'im back. I wanna have a meetin' tahnight with some of da othah leadahs so I'm gonna send out some boids and we're gonna see about gettin' those children outta dere." Spot unfolded himself from the wall and clenched his fist, "And I'm gonna kill da bastahd behind it."

In the silence that followed Spot's promise, a sound from down the hall, a thud of some sort caught both their attention at the same time. They stood frozen for a moment, wondering if it had just been a fluke until they heard another thump and a feminine shriek.

"Mina." Spot breathed, something akin to fear gripping his stomach as he pulled open the door and sprinted down the hall to his room.

…

Asylum woke up to the sound of the door opening and she turned over groggily, realizing she was in bed alone and expecting to see Spot. Instead, she met the cool grey eyes of a guy about her age.

She got up quickly off the bed, "Can I help you?" Instinct from long ago told her he wasn't here for just a friendly chat.

"Ya the goil dat has a fortune on her head." He told her, pulling out a rope to tie her up it seemed.

Unable to stop her eyes from rolling, she cocked an eyebrow and folded her arms across her chest in a relax position, though she was anything but. "You think Spot's going to let you rope me up and drag me out of here?"

The boy smirked, "Of course not. He seems ta have a thing foah ya, so I'm gonna make ya quiet and a few of me friends'll help me out. Dey waitin' just outside."

Asylum took a small step forward, pivoting her hip so that she could take up a defensive position while still maintaining the collected, relaxed look, "Oh, really? Then what are you going to do? Take me to Blake, I suppose? How much is he offering?"

The grey eyed boy looked startled that she knew what he was on about and he ran a hair through his brown hair, "He's offerin' a hundred and fifty."

Letting out a short, humorless laugh she asked, "Only a hundred and fifty? I thought you said it was a fortune. How cheap you guys have been bought. Split how many ways?"

Anger flashed in his eyes and she knew she was getting to him. Without the taunts, she knew she could take him but making him angry would force a mistake that would make him easier to take down.

"Pistol, hurry up." A voice whispered through the door, "We don't knows how long Spot and Cheese'll be."

This would help things along, because now the boy would feel rushed. "Awright, girl, we can do this da hard way or da easy way."

Asylum unfolded her arms and beckoned him, "Show me what you got."

Although Spot probably taught his boys how to fight ferociously, this boy was sorely lacking. He made the first mistake of making the initial attack, which she was prepared for. He dropped the rope and ran at her, his strategy looking to be to tackle her to the ground. She figured it would work because he was much larger than her, but she was skilled and managed to sidestep him at the last minute and his momentum carried him into the wall with a loud thud.

She turned her back to the door as she faced Pistol, watching him as he straightened himself out, which was a mistake because the guy at the door must have heard the thud and had come in to investigate. He came up behind her, clamping his hands on her arms so she couldn't raise them. She shrieked in surprised, before thinking fast and raising her leg up to connect to his groin.

He groaned and released her just as Spot came flying through the door, Cheese on his heels.

Spot took in the three, one guy frozen staring at him the other clutching his groin as Asylum moved so her back was to the wall. Anger and a jealous possession coursed through him as he went at the obvious guy, the one holding himself. Spot grabbed him by the front of his shirt and slammed him against the wall, "What da hell do ya think ya doin', Light?" He asked him, his tone deadly.

Asylum moved to the pair, putting her hand gently on his shoulder, "Spot, calm down. They were only trying to kidnap me."

He hid his surprise easily and directed his question at her as he kept his eyes on Light, "Is that all?"

She gave a low chuckle, "They want the money, Spot. Not even loyalty to you could keep me safe when there's greed in a person's heart."

Spot couldn't argue with that but it was a blow to his ego because he _had_ believed their loyalty would protect her. His boys were fearless, tough and brave but what set them far above the other boroughs was that they were supposed to be loyal to the end.

"Step back, Mina." He ordered her, and she quirked an eyebrow. "Please." He added through gritted teeth. Silently, she nodded and moved back to the wall as he pulled back his fist and let it connect with Light's face. Blood erupted like a torrent as he sent another blow to the boy's stomach, chest and one last one to the face again before shoving him to the ground.

Whirling around, he turned to Pistol as the boy cowered away from him, "Spot." He tried to reason, but didn't get any farther because Spot was throwing punch after punch at the kid. He barely broke a sweat as the kid finally collapsed, but he was breathing heavily as he turned to Asylum and scrutinized her for any damage they might have caused.

"Ya lucky, if you'd have harmed a hair on her head you'd have gotten more of a soakin'." He told Pistol as he kicked the kid in the ribs. Stepping back, he pulled Pistol off the floor and pushed him towards Light who was just beginning to stand after his beating, "I want you two outta Brooklyn. Is dat clear? If ya not loyal, ya not a Brooklyn newsie." His fist ached to continue the soaking, to actually kill them for betraying him, for almost putting Mina back into the hands of Blake but the fear in the two boy's eyes showed him that he'd sufficiently scared them enough that he'd never have to deal with them again.

"Clear." Light murmured, his head hanging while Pistol nodded, his own eyes downcast on the floor.

"Get outta here. Cheese, get a boid ta walk 'em ta a boundary."

"Right." Cheese replied, and followed the two down the hall as Race came down and raised an eyebrow.

"Hey, 'Sy. Spot. Did I miss somethin'?"*

**A/N: Sorry it took longer than usual. Am I going too slow? I feel I am, but I'd prefer this than going too fast. But, things should start coming to a head in the next chapter. Thank you sooo much to all you wonderful reviewers! Hope you enjoyed this!  
**

**Truly,**

**Joker is Poker with a J~**


	20. a cruel, dark wave

**Ragged Army**

**Summary: Reports of young children going missing has swept through New York City. No clues, no leads to where they are being taken and if they're still alive. Only one girl seems to be attuned to the voices of the missing children…the problem? Everyone thinks she's insane… **

**Chapter 20**

*"Heya, Ratchet." Spot clapped the leader of the Bronx on the shoulder and spit shook with him.

"Spot." Ratchet replied, his green eyes sharp as he nodded his head and returned the shake. He flicked his mouse brown hair from his eyes as he shook Jack's hand next and finally took a seat.

"Thanks foah comin'." Spot turned to the second guy who had arrived, "Red, good ta see ya."

Red, a tall, gangly eighteen-year-old with shocking red hair, spit in his hand and shook Spot's offered one, "'Eya, Spot. Jack. Haven't seen eithah a ya lately around Staten." He commented, and then shook his head, "Dat why we're all here?"

Spot raised a cool eyebrow and didn't comment as the third and last leader entered the room. Though Queens was Brooklyn's closest neighbor, the person in question was not a fan of Spot or Spot of him. "Clash. Nice a ya ta join us."

The seventeen-year-old looked nonplussed as he sat in one of the chairs without offering a hand shake to Spot. "Got distracted by dat goil out front. When ya done with her, Conlon, just send her on ovah ta Queens. I'll treat her much bettah."

The Brooklyn Leader rolled his eyes at Clash's attempt to rile him up, "Ise see ya don't mind taken sloppy seconds, aye, Clash?"

Clash's grey eyes sparked at the insult, but he refused to take the bait and sat there in silence for a moment before sagging in his chair in a relaxed manner, "Whatya want us alls foah, Spot? Some a' us have real problems ta deal with."

Spot went over to the door to his meeting room and glanced down the hall, taking his time in answering Clash's question. He caught a glimpse of Asylum sitting on the floor, her back against the wall with Fang curled up in her lap as she talked animatedly to Race. Trying not to scowl at the Italian, he was still mad at Race for earlier; he moved his gaze to the right and saw Cheese sitting at a table with three other boys. They were the seconds for Staten Island, Bronx and Queens and they'd be filled in later by their leaders.

All of his other newsies were up in the bunkroom, keeping quiet for his meeting. He had everything under control, despite Race's earlier comments after he'd found out about Asylum's attempted kidnapping.

_"Spot, how 'bout keepin' ya boys in line?"_ _He turned to the Brooklyn leader accusingly._

_ Asylum slipped between the boys before they could start anything, "How 'bout minding ya own damn business, Race?" Spot had spat out._

_ "Asylum is my business and dis woulda nevah happened in Manhattan." Race retorted, both glaring at each other over the top of the girl's head._

Spot shut the door. Race was right, it wouldn't have happened in Manhattan but that was because Asylum had been a newsie there for a year. The only thing protecting her here was the fact that she was _his_. That alone should have been enough because the only thing he'd ever asked of his boys was loyalty. She should have been safe.

Scowling lightly, he turned back to Clash, "Ise asked ya all here because Jack and me got some new infahmation on ouah missin' newsies."

The three leaders all straightened up in their seats and paid attention as Spot let Jack step forward to tell them a vague story. "We were headin' Queens ta see ya Clash and one of my newsies has been ta da place and dey recognized it. So, we came back ta organize and dat's when we sent foah ya all."

"Ya mean, one of ya newsies got away and told ya where it was?" Ratchet asked, brows furrowed in confusion.

"Pretty much. Now, what we're thinkin' is ta get a buncha us ta raid da buildin' befoah dey know what hit 'em." Jack told them, running a hand through his hair, "Dey got Snipeshootah and one a Spot's boys and Clash, we know dey have a ton of ya kids."

Clash stood up and nodded, "Yeah. Thoiteen. We gotta get 'em back. When should we do this? Tomarrah night?"

Tapping his cane lightly against the floor, Spot debated as Jack looked over to him. He wanted to just rush in, but knew this could mean their defeat. He'd give them all the day to get their strongest and then they'd do it. "Tomarrah night. Bring me ya best and strongest fightahs. A few of me boids have been keeping an eye on da building and they've counted at least thirty men go in and out. They have about fifty kids, too."

"So, it's settled. We strike at night. Be here tamarrah at seven ta get t'ings tagetha," Jack ordered before asking, "Any questions?"

It was silent for a moment and then they shook their heads in unison. "Good." Spot nodded his head, pleased it had gone nice and smoothly. And quick. Walking back over to the door, he opened it and headed down the hall where the seconds, Fang, and Asylum were.

He met her blue eyes, the gold ring around the pupil brighter today than normal as she woke up Fang and stood to meet him halfway. Loving how she looked him in the eyes as if he were the only guy in the room, he slipped an arm around her waist when she was close enough and roughly pulled her against him. He pressed his lips to her in a chaste kiss and when he pulled back to scan the room of newsies he felt her put a hand on his arm to steady herself.

Feeling a smirk pull at the corner of his mouth he turned back to meet her gaze, which had darkened with desire. Things had been a little stressed between them since he'd ordered her to stay in the lodging house after Pilot and Light had tried to grab her. He had seen the flash of indignation at being ordered about but had ignored it to get things arranged for tonight.

"Boys, dis is Asylum Perry. Asylum, dat's Ratchet of da Bronx, Clash from Queens, and Red from Staten Island."

Ratchet gave her a bow that caused her to blush and Red waved at her while Clash just leered on, "Asylum, huh?" Clash asked, "What's da nickname about?"

Asylum felt her cheeks grow even hotter because as much as she loved her nickname, people always asked about it and it was hard to explain so she replied simply, "I'm crazy."

Spot's arm around her waist squeezed her almost to the point of pain and he threw her a look, "It's just a nickname." He told Clash sharply.

Arching an eyebrow at the Brooklyn Leader, she took a step away from him and put out her hand to Fang, "Come on, Fang. Let's get you to bed." The small boy stared at Spot for a moment, resentment in his green eyes. Spot stared back at the boy, silently meeting the kids challenge. Fang broke the eye contact to gaze up in open adoration of Asylum as he put his hand in hers. The two started up the stairs that led up to the bunkroom when, at the last second, Fang turned and stuck his tongue out at Spot.

Chuckles followed Asylum up the stairs but she ignored them as anger at Spot's behavior coursed through her. How dare he deny her craziness? He knew better than anyone how insane she was.

"'Sy?" Fang whispered as he crawled into the bunk he was assigned. It had gotten very late as the leaders had their meeting and all the boys were asleep in their bunks.

"Yes, Fang?" She murmured back, smiling at him. They had spent the day together playing hide and go seek in the lodging house while the others were selling. She had found out he'd slipped past Skittery to follow them last night and that he'd lost track of them once they were in Queens and had gotten scared. He had even told her about Spot finding him and how Spot had gotten Flash to take him back here.

"We don't think ya crazy, Asylum. Ya the only one who brings it up." He told her before he opened his mouth in a wide yawn. He snuggled down into the thin sheet, almost immediately falling asleep after his statement.

She brushed back the lock of hair from his forehead. If she ever had kids, she wanted a little boy just like him but with Spot's blue eyes. Sighing at the silly turn of her thoughts, she stood and turned around to exit the bunkroom.

Spot watched the leaders of the other boroughs disperse in different directions and turned back to look at Jack and Race, "You two going back ta Manhattan ta get some of da boys?"

"We gonna crash here again, tahnight and go in da moinin' befoah da circulation bell is rung." Jack replied turning to go up the stairs as Asylum appeared at the top.

"Night, Jack." She told him, smiling as he ruffled her hair.

"G'night, 'Sy." He cast a meaningful glance back down at Spot before meeting her gaze, "Ya gonna be awright?"

She nodded and patted him on the shoulder, "Yeah, Jack. Don't worry."

Race pulled out a cigar, raised an eyebrow at Spot, and turned to go outside to smoke. Spot watched the Italian leave with an inscrutable look on his face. Asylum reached the bottom of the stairs and met Spot's gaze.

"I'm not exactly thrilled with you." She told him, folding her arms across her chest. Cheese had been off to the side, waiting to see if Spot needed him anymore, glanced between the couple before taking the stairs two at a time to get to the bunkroom.

Spot watched his second beat it out of the lobby like a bat out of hell and felt the smallest stab of jealousy. But, he was Spot Conlon and he did not fear anything so he turned to face Asylum head on, "What I do now, Mina?"

She let her arms fall to her sides and took a step closer, "Oh, I don't know, grabbing me and kissing me in front of the others? Talk about making a girl feel like property. Not to mention you then proceeded to counter my reply to Clash as if I don't know what I'm talking about and can't think on my own. I don't need you to answer questions for me, I know how to speak." She poked him in the chest with her finger, the anger keeping her from completely falling apart on the inside because she couldn't say the kiss bothered her all that much.

It was just the fact that very soon she wouldn't have him to argue with. She wouldn't have him to laugh with, or to sleep with at night to keep the nightmare's away. Once they saved the children, she'd lose him forever.

"Ya can't just go tellin' people ya crazy, Mina! It'll get ya thrown in an asylum and we won't be able ta get ya out. As foah da kiss I had ta show da othah leadahs they can't cross me. Clash and me don't see eye ta eye and he'd just love ta get a hold a you." Spot told her sternly, looking exasperated.

"Don't patronize me, Conlon." She replied, folding her arms once more and turning her back to him, "I'm going outside to sit with Race. I'll be in soon."

Spot wrapped an arm around her waist from behind and pulled her against him. He pressed a kiss to the soft part of her skin on her neck just under her ear before whispering in it, "Don't be like this. Ya know you can tawk ta me? Why do ya always go ta Race? Is there somethin' I'm missin'?"

"You don't trust me, Ryan?" She asked her back stiff against his chest.

He abruptly let go, stepping back and looking annoyed, "Dat's not what I said, Mina."

Her blue eyes snapped to his as that flame inside her flickered behind them when she replied sharply "But it was implied. No, there's never been anything but friendship between us and there will never be anything more."

Before he could reply, she strode out the door. He felt anger settle in the pit of his stomach and he marched down the hall to his room, slammed the door behind him and before he could think slammed a fist into the wall.

Asylum slammed the front door of the lodging house behind her as she heard him slam his own door. If she hadn't of been so angry at him, she'd think later, she'd have noticed sooner the absence of her best friend and the cigar that lay at the bottom of the steps forgotten, half trampled and still smoking as the rain softly fell around it. She'd have been more prepared for the sudden appearance of three large men as they all surrounded her, one very familiar as he leered at her and another brought something crashing hard down on her head.

"I'd hate ta be you righ' now, girly." The familiar one, the one from her Snipeshooter dream, told her before she felt unconsciousness sweep over her in a cruel, dark wave.*


	21. music of dreamin'

**Ragged Army**

**Summary: Reports of young children going missing has swept through New York City. No clues, no leads to where they are being taken and if they're still alive. Only one girl seems to be attuned to the voices of the missing children…the problem? Everyone thinks she's insane… **

**Chapter 21**

*Spot paced back and forth in the room for twenty minutes before the hair on the back of his neck began to rise and warn him that something wasn't quite right. Asylum and Race shouldn't be taking so long, especially not now when the rain was beginning to pour down even more. He could hear it on the roof of the lodging house and he hadn't heard the front door open at all since she had slammed it shut.

Waiting ten more minutes, he finally got fed up, opened the door and stepped out into the hallway. He was met with a chilling silence, only the occasional squeak of the springs from the mattress as someone shifted in their sleep in the bunkroom up the stairs. The oil lamp in the main lobby flickered brightly as he moved down the hallway and finally opened the front door. An envelope fell to the floor, but he ignored it to peer out into the darkness. Not a soul was out on the streets so late and it was especially silent with the down pour. A cold fear crept along his body as he squinted in the darkness, "Mina? Race?" He called out.

That's when he noticed the crushed cigar, now cold and completely soaked lying on the ground in front of the bottom step. He knew without a doubt something had gone terribly wrong and he stepped out onto the top step, unable to stop the loud growl and his angry yell of, "BLAKE!"

He turned back to rouse his boys, ready to go barreling into the warehouse to save her when his eyes caught the white envelope that lay on the floor. No name was written on the front and he picked it up and slowly pulled out the crisp paper that was folded neatly in threes. He unfolded it, recognizing instantly the blood red letters and fanciful handwriting, as he skimmed over the words:

_Two,_

_ You didn't honestly think I wouldn't recognize you, did you? I suppose you did…how funny. I usually have others get what I want, but my men kept talking about the two boys who seemed to constantly be around One so I had to come see for myself. I knew the moment I saw the two of you together who you were but I realized it would be much more fun to take her and see if you could rescue her like you were never able to before. Such a shame, you know how much fun I had punishing her for your leaving? I'm sure you feel terrible, which makes my game all the more entertaining. _

_ Should we play a game, then? I've moved my location once again because my own little bird informed me of your attack. So I devised a clue that will lead you to her and your friend –that is if you can figure it out. And then maybe you'll get her back, if I feel merciful at the time._

_ I know you are aware that I like to use a special ink for each letter I write, so I will tell you your newsie –Chance was it?- sends his regards._

_ Truly,_

_ Blake_

_P.S.: You're clue is this, 'the Lenape use to parade where the Animals now graze near the Garden.'_

Briefly, he thought about crushing the note in his fist but he tossed the idea out as soon as he thought it because this one little clue was his only hope of finding and saving Asylum, Race and those children. Kicking the door shut behind him, he started up the stairs two at a time but just as he reached the top he stopped himself from running into the small kid.

Fang rubbed his eyes blearily and met Spot's blue pair, "Where's 'Sy? I had a nightmare."

Spot thought fast, not wanting the kid to worry he replied, "She's sleepin'. How 'bout I…uh, tell ya a story ta get ya back ta sleep?" He inwardly winced at the thought of doing this, but he needed the kid out of the way so he could wake up Cheese and Jack and start figuring out what the clue meant.

The eight-year-old looked up at him curiously, but nodded all the same as he slipped his hand into Spot's much larger one. Taken-aback, Spot hesitated for a moment before letting the kid lead him into the quiet bunkroom and over to his bed. He'd have to have a talk with Asylum about babying the smaller newsies back in Manhattan.

A sick feeling settled in his stomach at the thought of not making it to her in time but he furiously quelled it. He was determined to save her like he hadn't before. He would not fail this time, nor break his promise.

Fang crawled under the thin, scratchy sheet and then looked up at him expectantly. Spot ran a hand through his hair and sat down on the bed, searching his memory for his favorite story when he was a boy. Before he was orphaned, he'd lived with his mother and she use to tell him of the story of Dagda, the wisest and most powerful God of Irish Mythology, in her soft, lilting Irish accent. He could almost hear her telling it in his memories as he began his story to Fang.

"Long ago," He began but was cut off by the small boy.

"Once upon a time." Fang told him, firmly.

Spot rolled his eyes, "Who's tellin da story, kid?"

"'Sy always begins with 'Once upon a time'." Fang replied, stubbornly.

Shaking his head, Spot started again, "Once upon a time, dere was two kinds of peoples in Ireland. One set a people, da Fomorians, had long, dark hair and eyes that carried long spears made of golden bronze. Da othah set of peoples were light haired and blue eyed and dey carried short, heavy spears made of dull metal.

"It was da chieftain of da light-haired tribe dat was most important, as he was also the head priest. He was called Dagda and he owned three magical items. Da foist was his club, which he could kill a foe with one end and grant life with anothah. His second item was his cauldron of plenty who would feed anyone they're favorite food, except oathbreakers or cowards. But, most importantly was his third item; his magical Harp. It caused da seasons ta change, but it also played three types of music."

Fang stared up at him with wide eyes, and Spot felt a touch of satisfaction as he continued, "da music of sorrow, da music of joy, and da music of dreamin'. He'd play da music of Joy before they headed off ta battle, giving them courage and hope. When they returned, da numbers diminished, he'd play for dem da music of Sorrow so that they may mourn the men lost and take comfort in da fact dat they were back with they're families.

"Now, there came a time when da two tribes were at war. As dey were in a large battle, da guards around Dagda's hall were not there and da Fomorians' got in and stole da magic Harp. They took da harp and ran far away until da sounds of da battle faded away. When they thought they were safe, they hid in a abandoned castle and hung da Harp on da wall as they sat ta eat."

"How did Dagda get it back?" Fang asked, captivated.

Spot chuckled, "Dagda was smart and he and a few of his men easily tracked the Fomorian's. They rushed da door open and he called ta his Harp, and da Harp recognized its mastah's voice and sprung from da wall, swept across da hall killing any enemy dat got inta its way and came inta his hands. He stroked three solemn cords which produced the music of sorrow. The women of the Fomorian's bowed their heads and wept as the children crawled into their laps, sobbing while the men turned away to hide crying of their own. Dagda strummed the cords of the Harp and da music of Joy echoed through the castle, causing the Fomorians to laugh mirthfully. They laughed until they dropped their spears and goblets of wine, until they're bones and muscles were helpless with glee."

The Brooklyn King paused, watching Fang squirm, "How does it end, Spot?" He asked, anxiously, "Does Dagda destroy da Fomorians?"

His lips twitched, remembering him asking his mother the same. She had only smiled, brushed back his hair, her blue eyes had sparkled with amusement as she replied, "Not every fight has a clear cut winner, Ryan."

He was tempted to repeat it to Fang, but decided against it, "Nah, kid. Dagda touched his Harp one more time, very softly. Do ya know what music dat produced?"

"Da music of dreaming?" Fang asked, beginning to yawn as if he could already hear the music of dreaming.

"Yeah. Da music was stole forth as soft as dreams and fell upon the Fomorian's, taking them off into deep, sweet slumber. When all had drifted off, Dagda took his Harp and he and his golden-haired warriors swept away. Back home ta their village and families." As he finished, Fang's eyes began to flutter shut and his even breathing joined the chorus of the rest of the sleeping newsies.

Spot Conlon sat there for a moment, letting the whisper of his mother's voice fade away and feeling a small amount of peace settle in his heart. Taking the time to tell Fang the story had cleared his head and now he could sufficiently work out exactly how to go about Asylum's rescue.

He folded the note and walked over to Cheese's bunk, "Cheese." He whispered, shaking the boys shoulder, "Cheese, up and at 'em."

"Wha-? Spot? It's still dahk." Cheese mumbled, rolling over to peer up at Spot through half-lidded eyes.

Poking his cane into his seconds side, he replied, "I'm gonna wake Jacky-boy. Meet me in da conference room in five. We got a issue."

Rubbing the sleep from his eyes, Cheese stood up and made his way out of the bunk room while Spot went to Jack's bunk. "Wake up, Cowboy." He poked the Manhattan leader with his cane, causing Jack to start and nearly falling off the bed.

"Whatsamattah wit' you?" Jack asked, swatting at the prodding cane.

Spot rolled his eyes, "Jack, get up. We got a serious mattah ta attend. Ya beauty rest can wait."

Jack sat up and glared at him, "Nothin' so serious it can't wait till moinin'?"

Brooklyn cocked an arrogant eyebrow before replying sarcastically, "Nah, ya right, Jack. Asylum and Racetrack bein' kidnapped can wait till moinin'."*

**A/N: Short, and kind of filler but there WILL be some parallels. All in good time, darlings! All in good time! Everything hasn't exactly worked itself out, yet! But, have faith! I'm usually at least a step ahead of myself lol. Anywho, thanks to those who have reviewed and I hope everyone enjoyed this chapter! If you can guess my riddle (I'm kinda suck at riddles, but I thought it was creative enough ^.^) I'll give you a cookie! Please tell me what your thoughts are in a review!**

**Truly, (- I'm surprised no one's said anything about Blake and I signing our names the same! lol)  
**

**Joker is Poker with a J~  
**


	22. whole lotta crazy

**Ragged Army**

**Summary: Reports of young children going missing has swept through New York City. No clues, no leads to where they are being taken and if they're still alive. Only one girl seems to be attuned to the voices of the missing children…the problem? Everyone thinks she's insane… **

**A/N: So, I realized I mixed up some names in chapter 20. Clarification: Ruckus is one of Spot's Birds. Ratchet is the leader of Bronx. Everything's been fixed, sorry for the mix up! Enjoy!**

**Chapter 22**

*Asylum floated up from unconsciousness as if she were coming up from deep under water. She kept her eyes shut as she checked her limbs. She was sitting in a chair, her arms tied behind her back, her legs tied to the legs of the chair and she could hear the breathing of someone else in the room. It was close, just behind her and she could feel the slightest bit of body heat from them. She'd guess that they were sitting tied up back to back.

Slowly, she opened one eye and then the other to find herself faced with a blindfold. Letting out an agitated sigh, she began to rub her face on her shoulder to see if she could get the blindfold off that way.

"'Sy?" Race's voice asked from behind her, "You awake?"

"Yeah, Race. Trying to get this damn blindfold off. How're you feeling?" She asked, stopping when she realized that it was tied too tight and wouldn't easily come off.

"Fine. They didn't even knock me out, 'Sy. Ise don't undahstand it. I saw dem attack ya and couldn't do nothin'." He gave his own frustrated sigh, "Aftah you went down they blindfolded me. How're you?"

"Besides a slight headache, I'm fine and I don't understand it anymore than you, Race. Any idea where we are?"

"Well, dey went ta da left instead of right so Ise assumin' 'Hattan or da Bronx. Not shoah. But, we're definitely not in Queens. Ya think Spot or Jack will find us?" She felt him shift nervously and knew he was itching for a cigar.

"I don't know, Race…" She trailed off, wondering how Blake always knew when to switch to another place, "what was yesterday?"

"Uh, da twenty-fifth. Maybe. Ise lost track of time here, bein' blindfolded."

"I mean what day was it when I took you to Queens?"

Race was quiet, "Well, it was aftah midnight so technically da twenty-sixth."

"So exactly one year after I leave Queens, my subconscious state takes me back there? That's not a coincidence, Race."

Before he could reply, they both heard a door to their left open and a whoosh of air. It was silent for the merest moment before the soft, calculated footsteps entered the room and the door shut.

Race and she sat tensed, waiting.

"Your senses haven't dulled, One." Blake's deep voice rumbled through the small room.

She turned to face the direction his voice came from at the same time she felt him come close to her and her blind fold was pulled off. Raising her blue eyes to meet his coal black ones in the light of the oil lamp he had set down near the door, she felt nearly sick to her stomach to meet the man that starred in her worst nightmares.

"Blake." From the corner of her eye she could see Race sitting behind her, his head cocked so that he could hear their conversation.

Blake chuckled, "Feel good to be back, One?" He reached out a hand to brush back her hair and she flinched away, "Now, don't be like that. Do you know how lonely I've been since I thought my favorite…subject has been dead this last year?"

"I couldn't give a rat's ass about your 'loneliness'." She spat the last word at him, and even managed to get some spittle on his face.

His eyes narrowed as he wiped off her saliva and then he slowly let his eyes slide to Race. "So, One, this is one of your little bodyguards?"

Asylum saw something abnormal in his eyes as he looked at Race. It was a hungry look, but she couldn't tell if that was good or bad thing, though in Blake's case it probably wasn't good. It did disturb her however, so she wiggled in her seat, "Let's keep this between us, huh, Blake? What're you going to do to me now that you've got me? Dress me in nightgowns and continue my torture?"

It was sufficient enough to get him to turn away from Race, but she knew she couldn't keep his attention forever. "No, One. I have other plans for you, though if you miss the torture I _could_ have something arranged…"

"Ya leave her alone, ya hear me?" Race finally growled out, turning his head around to look with blinded eyes at the direction of Blake's voice.

"Tut, tut. You think you can order me around, Racetrack?" He chuckled when Race drew his head back in shock. "Yes, yes. I had heard from my men there were two boys protecting her. I instantly recognized Two, you call him Spot? But, it took me a moment…Racetrack, the newsie who habits the tracks and gambles his money. Practically the second in command to Jack Kelly, the famous leader of the newsies strike. When I heard One was a newsie, I had to know more about you all. Money can get you anything you want."

"Won't buy ya sanity." Race said, snidely.

Blake laughed outright at that, "You really have a mouth on you. I wondered what you'd say…no, I won't ruin the surprise. I'll let you two alone for awhile. Oh, I _do_ love suspense!" He reached over and put out the oil lamp, pulled off Race's blindfold and turned to the door. Still chuckling at who knew what, he walked out without a backwards glance and locked the door behind him.

Race shifted in his seat, the room now such a pitch black that being without the blindfold was kind of redundant and whispered to her, "And youse think ya crazy? When ya get ta be half as crazy as dat guy, den you can tawk."

She let out a mirthless laugh, "Yeah, if you still think I'm sane when we get out of this I'll marry Spot."

"I'm holdin' ya to dat." Race replied, leaning his shoulders back so that they were touching hers, trying to offer some sort of comfort and warmth in this dark, bone chilling room…

**Back in Brooklyn**

Jack paced the room as Spot leaned against the wall. It was noon already, though the overcast sky and continued rain made the day feel like evening. They were waiting, non-too-patiently, for the other leaders from the boroughs while at the same time trying to figure out the clue. Cheese stood, the letter in hand reading and re-reading the clue with a sick look on his face.

"I can't believe he used Chances blood." Cheese said for the umpteenth time looking like he wanted to crush the paper while at the same time knowing they needed the clue. "Look how coitin woids are capitalized?" He said, tilting the letter for Spot to see, "Lenape…Animal, and Garden."

Red strolled in, "What's da mattah, Spot?" He asked, without preamble. He had dark rings under his blue eyes and his shocking red hair was darker wet as it stuck to his forehead. Red was looking just as haggard as the other three boys in the room.

"Blake got Asylum and Race." Spot said, shortly.

The Staten Island leader quirked an eyebrow as he sat down and before he could reply Ruckus came running in, "Queens wouldn't come." He told Spot, shifting uneasily, "Wouldn't say why, eithah. I left Scout in Queens, though, ta see if he could find anythin' out."

Spot tapped his cane on the floor, "Dat ain't good news, Ruckus. But, Ise think dat Clash was workin' with Blake. Blake mentioned his own little 'boid' and da only ones who knew about everythin' was us five and ouah seconds." He gazed darkly out the window, broodingly.

Red sighed, "But, what about his plea foah his thoiteen missin' newsies? How could he not wanna save 'em?"

Silence fell as they all contemplated this until it was broken by Flash, who also came jogging in. He stopped to catch his breath before turning to report to Spot, "Bronx wouldn't come. Said you'd be comin' ta him." Flash shrugged, perplexed.

Cheese snapped his fingers suddenly, "Animals! Zoo! Da Bronx zoo! And da Garden…da New York Botanical Garden! Which is also in da Bronx!" The others turned to stare at his sudden outburst, the information taking a moment to sink in before they all shared a look. Cheese started forward but Spot put out his cane to keep him from leaving.

"But what about da Lenape part?" Spot asked, raising a skeptical eyebrow while wanting to believe that the Bronx was the answer.

"Two outta t'ree ain't bad. Spot, It's da only lead we got so far and it's already noon." Cheese replied, anxious to get going, "We gotta at least go dere and see what Ratchet knows."

They had already spent too much time pondering the clue and everyone was getting antsy. Spot mulled it over and finally nodded, "But, if this ain't right we'd be wasting da day ta walk dere. Ruckus, when da boys come back round up da ones we tawked about and have them ready foah anythin'. Flash, come wit us. Once we find out about da Bronx ya gonna be my runnah ta get back up if we need it."

"We can stop in 'Hattan on the way, get them ready in case we need more back up." Jack added.

Spot nodded and turned to face Red, "I'll go get anothah boid, tell him which newsies of yours ya want and he'll bring 'em here. Awright? Dat way we got plenty a backup." Spot turned to Ruckus and raised an eyebrow and Ruckus took off. Not two minutes later he was back with another newsboy.

Motioning for Red to tell the boy who to get, Spot turned to face Cheese, "I need ya ta stay here, Cheese."

"I respect ya decision, Spot, but I would like ya ta reconsidah takin' me with ya." Cheese replied through clenched teeth.

Spot shook his head, "I need ya ta lead my backup here. Youse da second and I need ya here." He put a hand on Cheese's shoulder, "I know ya want Chance back, but it's foah da best ya stay here."

Cheese's shoulders fell slightly and he nodded, "Yeah. Awright, Spot. I'll be waitin' foah Flash ta come get us."

Patting his seconds' shoulder, Spot held out a hand, "Can Ise have da lettah?" Cheese handed it over without a word and walked out of the room.

"Ready?" Jack asked, looking slightly anxious. Spot nodded, folded the letter and slipped it in his pocket before waving over Red.

"Let's go." The four boys needed no other prodding and they walked briskly through Brooklyn, getting immediately wet from the large rain drops that were pattering down on the city.

The journey across the bridge and towards Tibby's was uneventful and mostly quiet. Jack and Spot had decided that it was early enough that most of the newsies would still be at Tibby's and when they walked in they found that luck was on their side.

"Heya, Jack!" Blink called out, standing in as leader while Jack and Race were gone. He came up to Jack, looked between him, Spot, Flash and Red and a dark look crept across the boys face, "Where's 'Sy and Race?"

Jack put a hand on Blink's shoulder, "I'm gonna need ya ta get da oldah boys ready as backup." He began, ignoring Blink's question. "Just stay at da lodgin' house and be prepared foah Flash here ta come get ya, awright? He'll tell ya exactly where we are. Ya gonna have ta hurry, too."

Blink nodded, "Yeah, no problem, Jack. We'll be dere."

The Manhattan leader nodded, "We gotta go." The four turned away.

"Good luck." Blink called out, and then turned to talk to the older boys.

Jack ran a hand through his hair as they headed through Manhattan on the way to the Bronx, "Whattya think we'll find, Spot?" He asked.

"Ise don't know, Jacky-boy. Hopefully, somethin' ta lead us ta Asylum and Race." Spot avoided Jack's gaze, because he honestly didn't know what to think about everything. He was anxious for Asylum, hating he'd let his guard down long enough for her to get kidnapped. If he hadn't have picked a fight with her, she wouldn't have walked out that door. She'd have been safe in his arms. He clenched his fists in anger when he remembered arguing with her because it had seemed so important at the time.

It was almost four o' clock when they finally reached the Bronx. They all stopped when they came upon Ratchet standing directly on the borderline.

"Been waitin' foah ya all." He murmured, his green eyes looking bleak. "Fallah me." He turned around while Spot and Jack shared a glance and then followed silently.

Weaving their way through the crowd of people trying to make their way home as dry as possible, Spot kept an eye out for anyone tailing them. He hadn't noticed any character out of place but that didn't mean there weren't any lurking in the alleys.

They reached the Bronx newsies lodging house in only ten minutes and Ratchet motioned them in. He led them down a hall to a small room not unlike Spot's meeting room. Once they were all in, he shut the door and strode to the window to gaze out.

"What's with da secrecy, Ratch?" Jack asked, finally.

Ratchet turned from the window, pulled an envelope from his pocket and passed it to Spot. On the front was written, '_Two_' in a familiar, elegant scrawl.

Spot couldn't keep the scowl from his face as he slit it open and pulled out the letter with the maroon ink that was becoming far too sickeningly recognizable.

_Two,_

_ So, it seems you've figured out the first clue. And now you are at a Crossroads! This one is practically a Givan, courtesy of the one and only blake Wilson. There you will come upon you're One in her newsie name! Hmm, ponder today's date! _

_ Truly,_

_ Blake_

Red whistled lowly, "That sounds like a whole lotta crazy."*

**A/N: I love this chapter, and I honestly couldn't tell you why. Lol. I had fun writing that clue, though! I think it's pretty easy, but just a hint it involve street names! ^.^ Blake is getting more and more fun to write! But, I hope you all enjoyed and everyone who reads should review so I have a hundred reviews by next chapter? Lol, an author can dream! Thanks to all who continue to stick by my story! Hope you all are enjoying so far!**

**Truly,**

**Joker is Poker with a J~  
**


	23. Ya got guts, kid

**Ragged Army**

**Summary: Reports of young children going missing has swept through New York City. No clues, no leads to where they are being taken and if they're still alive. Only one girl seems to be attuned to the voices of the missing children…the problem? Everyone thinks she's insane… **

**Chapter 23**

*Fang tumbled in from selling in the late afternoon with his new friend, Mouse, only to find the older boys of Brooklyn tense and restless in the lobby along with ten or so other guys that didn't look like they were from here. He gazed around the main lobby at the big males, none familiar or even approachable looking, as he searched for Asylum, Race, and Jack or at the very least Spot Conlon.

When he found that none of them were within the lodging house, he moved down the hall to the meeting room Spot always took people into and peered inside. The large, blonde boy with the top hat was familiar, and he realized it was Cheese. Second in Command to Spot and the most favored newsie among the younger boys. Fang watched him pace back and forth in the room as one of the other boys, Ruckus he thought, sat in a chair and tapped his fingers on his knees.

"Ya think dey found anythin' out yet?" Ruckus asked, watching Cheese as he moved back and forth, his light grey eyes worried.

"Dey bettah have. Spot'll tear apaht da city lookin' foah her." Cheese replied, "Just wish we had somethin' ta do. I don't like dis sittin' business."

Ruckus nodded silently, and Fang's eyebrows furrowed as he contemplated what Cheese had said. _Could he…could he have been talking about 'Sy?_ Wondered Fang. He pressed his back against the wall and continued to listen, hoping they'd say anything more.

"Do ya t'ink Blake's got her and Race in da Bronx? Or is it a wild goose chase?" Ruckus inquired.

Sighing, Cheese replied through clenched teeth, "Ise don't know anymore den you. Though, Ise t'ink I was right about da clue. It has ta be da Bronx. But, who knows what dey'll find when dey get there." He stopped talking abruptly, leaving out what both were thinking.

Fang felt fear for Asylum, because he knew it had to be the 'her' they mentioned. She had been kidnapped? He remembered the nights he'd lain awake in bed as Jack, Race and Spot attempted to get into her room this last week while she screamed at the nightmares in her head at the top of her lungs. Asylum was as close to a mother as he had and hearing those screams and seeing her everyday get more and more withdrawn had frightened him to his soul. An image of her thinning form, her listlessness and dark rings under her eyes these past weeks were burned into his mind and he felt like he should do something. He was small, he could save her. Spot might not be able to, but Fang wouldn't fail.

Pushing away from the wall, he headed out of the lodging house, determined. He was almost to the door when a hand grabbed him roughly on the shoulder, "Where ya goin', kid?"

The boy was tall and gangly with chin length brown hair and dark brown eyes. Fang turned his chin up, "Ta da docks." He replied, trying to shrug off the boys shoulder.

Shaking his head, the boy pushed him back, "Nah, too dangerous out dere foah ya. Guys are snatchin' kids up and sellin' 'em. Wondah how much we'd get foah ya?" The older boy wondered thoughtfully.

Fang's eyes widened and he aimed a kick at the boys shin.

"Ouch!" He exclaimed and took a step back, "I was kiddin', kid. Nobody ain't gonna hoit ya."

A voice to Fang's right cut him off, "Dodgah, whatya doin' ta da kid?" Cheese snapped impatiently, walking down the hallway towards them, "Dontcha got bettah things ta do dent pick on someone smallah?"

Dodger shrugged, "I didn't want him ta go out on his own and den he kicked me."

Fang glared at the older boy, "He wanted ta know how much Blake would buy me foah."

"I was kiddin'!" Dodger said, defensively, "I knows he's not one of us, but he's with Asylum and dat's Spot's goil. Ain't no way I'm layin' a hand on him."

Cheese raised an eyebrow thoughtfully, his attention on the newsboy. Fang watched for a moment before taking the opportunity to slip out of the front door. As soon as his feet hit the sidewalk he began running, weaving in and out of the crowd and taking a few back alleys to get to the Brooklyn bridge, to the Bronx and most importantly to Asylum, as fast as he could.

**The Bronx**

After much debate, it was decided that the clue was an intersection of Wilson and Givan Avenue. Ratchet had recalled the two streets crossed in the middle of the Bronx territory and had even managed to remember the three story building that stood on the corner; an old Asylum that had been shut down a decade ago and had sat vacant for some time.

"Dat's some sick shit." Red muttered. He'd been completely aghast at the clues, the things Jack had told him about Blake and most importantly the fact that they had to wait for nightfall before scouting out the building.

"Chances are, he knows ya got dis." Ratchet told Spot as they stood on the front steps, watching the sun fall low on the horizon, "He'll be expectin' ya eithah way…" The Bronx leader passed a sideways glance at the Brooklyn leader, "Conlon, I know she's ya goil…but ya can't save her with no sleep."

Spot had been gazing at the sunset. Just as they had figured out the clue, the rain that had plagued the city for the last few weeks had stopped as if the sky had just dried up. The clouds had been blown away rapidly and left in their place was a vast, cerulean sky and the bright ball of orange that was the sun.

"_I've always been more of a sunset girl."_ He remembered her saying that to him…had it only been a day ago? Spot was beginning to feel the exhaustion of the two, sleepless nights and with that exhaustion a profound sense of impending doom. The sky shouldn't have cleared so fast, Asylum should be here to watch the first sunset since the rain. The bright oranges, the soft pinks and the brilliant golds brushed across the sky as if God himself had painted them with simple strokes.

"Ya right, Ratchet." Spot murmured, surprising himself and the boy beside him, "Got a bed I can crash on for a coupla houahs?"

Ratched flicked the cigarette he'd been smoking in a nearby puddle and turned to go inside, "Shoah, Spot. Let's get ya settled in."

It felt like he'd just lain down when a commotion down the stairs woke him. He realized it had to have been a few hours because when he looked out the window it was pitch black with the exception of an oil lamp lit across the street. Rubbing his eyes, he grabbed his cane from the wall and his hat off the floor, putting it securely on his head and heading down to the noise.

Stopping on the top step, he let his gaze sweep across the lobby, taking in the fact that Cheese was there with his boys, that he was holding a wiggling Fang under his right arm and that Ratchet and he were arguing loudly. Bronx and Brooklyn stood behind their leaders with Jack and Red in the middle, trying to calm things down.

Spot raised an eyebrow, waiting to be noticed and leaned on his cane. "What's goin' on?" He asked, raising his voice just so and was pleased to watch it carry across the building, leaving behind silence.

Cheese turned his gaze from Ratchet's green eyes to Spot's ice blue ones as the Brooklyn leader inwardly sighed. To have to deal with this on top of the lack of sleep and the fact that Asylum was kidnapped by a psycho did nothing to help his mood, "Well?" He prompted, starting down the stairs.

His second steeled himself, set Fang down and then met his eyes, "Da kid was comin' ta save Asylum. We ran inta Flash along da way and he said ya needed back up. Ratchet wouldn't let us wake ya."

Quirking an eyebrow, Spot slid his gaze to Ratchet's. Bronx and Brooklyn had never been close allies, like he was with Manhattan, because they weren't close neighbors. They generally stayed out of each others business but Spot was beginning to see how good a leader Ratchet was. He wasn't cocky, like Spot or Clash would freely admit to being, and he wasn't a push over as Red sometimes was. Ratchet was quiet, collected and never gave favor to anyone. Respect for him filled Spot up and he turned back to Cheese, "Since ya woke me anyways with ya arguin' we might as well figuah out a plan."

Cheese dropped his head in obedience and Ratchet nodded briskly, "Follah me." He took them back to the room they had been in earlier and shut the door quietly.

**Corner of Wilson and Givan Avenue**

"I'm not letting you do dat." Race told her harshly, shifting in his seat.

Asylum gritted her teeth, "It's the only way. It worked last time and we need to get out of here before Blake comes back." She also shifted in her seat, trying to move her arm just so…though it was hard with the rope wrapped around her chest and arms.

"Do ya think he'd let it happen a second time?" Her friend questioned his breathing heavy in the darkness.

She gave a low chuckle, thinking about how Blake's mind worked, "I bet he's counting on it. Luckily for you, Race, you have a crazy on your side. I know how he thinks." They had been in the room for a longtime and she had been debating on this plan for a third of it. She wasn't going to sit and wait for Blake like she use to, and she was sure he knew she wouldn't.

Race let out an agitated sigh and wiggled in his seat, "Man, 'Sy, dis chair is killin' my ass. Ya think he'll be back soon? It's been almost an entire day. He's a nut, I tell ya. Gonna taunt me about my reaction. Ya knows my reaction would be, 'Sy? I'm going ta soak him. Won't know what hit him, but it'll be my fists. Sick bastahd. I outta..."

Realizing he was chatting away so he wouldn't have to hear the sound of her arm break, she quickly prayed for that same miracle that saved her over a year ago, braced herself for the pain and pressed her left arm against the back of the chair taking the pain until the snap of her arm breaking echoed through the small room.

Biting her lip, she sagged against the bindings breathing heavily from the effort as she was met with Racetrack's silence until she heard the unmistakable sound of him vomiting. He coughed a bit to clear his throat before speaking, "Ise don't evah wanna have ta hear dat again."

"Trust me; I'd rather not have felt it again." She replied, silent tears running down her cheeks. Just as she thought, Blake had planned ahead. He'd left the ropes just loose enough that she could easily pull her broken, mangled arm through and once it was out, the right arm came out just as smoothly.

Cradling her broken arm to her chest, she used her right to pull the rope over her head and then leaned down to work on her tied up feet.

"Damn." She cursed as the time ticked away. Untying rope with one arm was not working well at all, especially in the dark.

"Turn around and help me first." Racetrack told her, his voice anxious.

Giving up on her feet, she turned her body around to begin on Racetrack's ropes. It was still slow going, but once he freed his arms he quickly got his legs free and started on hers. As soon as they were both free, he pulled her into a gentle hug, being careful not to jostle her arm.

He ruffled her hair, "Ya got guts, kid." He murmured before turning to the door. There was the smallest crack of light from the bottom and just as they moved towards it, a shadow moved outside it and the sound of it unlocking made them both stop dead in their tracks. Race stepped in front of her protectively as the knob began to turn slowly...*

**A/N: I realize this took me forever. Trust me, I tried to get it out as fast as I could! And I sincerely apologize for the slow goings and the cliffhanger but I can only go as fast as my characters allow me to. As for the Cliffie, I could not resist! Haha!**

**So, please don't hate me! I'm going to give you a hint about the next chapter; there's going to be a big surprise! I'm pretty sure no one's caught it yet so you should all drop me a lovely review since I'm giving you this small hint! I dare you to guess!**

**Truly,**

**Joker is Poker with a J~  
**


	24. A ragged army

**Ragged Army**

**Summary: Reports of young children going missing has swept through New York City. No clues, no leads to where they are being taken and if they're still alive. Only one girl seems to be attuned to the voices of the missing children…the problem? Everyone thinks she's insane… **

**Chapter 24**

*"Here." Ratchet murmured quietly to Spot as everyone filed out of the room, the plan set. Spot instinctively reached out and raised an eyebrow as his hand wrapped around the cold, heavy pistol Ratchet was passing to him.

"Dere's two bullets. If ya get a chance at Blake, don't hesitate but Ise put in a extra just in case." He told him, his green eyes deadly serious.

Spot kept the eyebrow raised, but he slipped it into his pocket and gave a curt nod to the Bronx leader, "Thanks. Ya ready?"

Ratchet shrugged nonchalantly and preceded Spot out of the room. Spot stood there for a second, his hand rising to wrap around the key that hung around his neck. There would be no mistakes this time, no more games with Blake, he silently vowed. It was going to come down to them two and Spot wasn't going to let it be him. He refused. Too much was left for him to do. He needed to train a new leader for Brooklyn, he had to save those kids and most importantly he needed Mina to know he loved her whether she believed she was crazy or not.

He'd take a fight with her over being with any other girl any day, which was saying something because since he'd become leader and had naively accepted that Mina was dead he'd had his fair share of girls. None had ever compared to her, though.

With that thought in mind, he pulled the key off and stuffed it in his pocket. Once everything was settled he knew exactly where the key was going. Grabbing his cane, he walked out of the room briskly, but was stopped by Cheese and Red in the lobby.

"Spot, we gots a problem." Cheese sent a look at the leader from Staten Island as an annoyed look flashed across his face, "Fang's taken off again."

Letting out a tired sigh, Spot removed his hat to run a hand through his hair, "He don't know where she is, though. Why would he just take off in da middle of da night not knowin'?"

"Well…" Red began, shifting slightly, "Ise had da lettah and Ise was tellin' Luck about how we figuahed it out and he musta ovah hoid…" He trailed off and Spot felt anger at the leader's inability to keep an eye on his surroundings.

Spot moved forward menacingly, meeting Red's gaze as he promised, "Anythin' happens ta him, I'm holdin' ya poisonally responsible." He turned from the incapable boy before he lost his temper and gestured for the group to come together. "Listen up," He began, scanning the assembly of newsies, "We've had it rough dis summah with ouah friends and brothah's goin' missin' but it ain't ovah yet. Tonight, we're getting back what's ouahs. Are ya gonna help me?"

"Yeah!" The collection of boys yelled.

"Good. Dey say we're street rats who have nothin' ta fight foah, but tonight we do. We may not be uniformed, we're a ragged army, but an army wit' somethin' ta believe in." He moved to the front of the crowd as hands clapped him on the back and immediately took the lead in their walk through the dark streets of the Bronx, north towards the corner of Givan and Wilson Avenue.

**The Corner of Wilson and Givan Avenue**

Peering around Race, Asylum watched in horror as Blake himself came into the room. She took in every detail of him, remembering when Jack asked what he looked like. In the light from the hall and the oil lamp he carried she noticed he'd grown his hair out long in the last year, tying it in a pony tail with a string. He was tall, as tall as Jack and muscular and she thought vaguely the shape of his eyes and his mouth looked familiar. He wore trousers and a dark blue button up shirt and slung over the arm with the oil lamp was a dress that she knew was for her. Blake was just crazy like that.

Racetrack, it seemed, had been doing the same thing she had but his reaction was all too different from her own. She winced in pain when he stumbled back and into her, his back hitting her arm, "Blaine." He breathed, and she furrowed her brows at the familiar name.

Her eyes slid from Race's face to Blake's and then back again. Slowly, things began to click and memories surfaced from a few months before when she'd mused out loud to him about how great it would be to have real blood siblings, although the newsies were a wonderful bunch. Race had gone on to agree, only half heartedly, until she'd finally prodded him into telling her about how he'd become a newsie. So he had told her about his mother and sister's death and how his older brother Blaine had abandoned him when he had needed him most.

Once more her eyes took in Blake's face and she realized why the shape of his eyes were familiar, even though his were black as oppose to Race's light, chocolate brown ones. And it wasn't until she saw them here, together in the same room, that she noticed the mouth they shared. The only difference was Race's mouth smiled and Blake's –Blaine's- smirked cruelly.

Blake proved her right by lifting the corners of his mouth up and asking, "You do recognize your dear older brother, don't you, Anthony?"

The horror of the situation started sinking in and she placed her uninjured arm around Race's waist, standing beside him to give him her support. It was almost impossible to connect her best friend here to her worst enemy and she could not imagine what Race was going through. She could almost cry for him, though, as emotions flitted across his face; shock, anger, betrayal, hurt with anger winning as the dominant emotion. It blazed to life in Race's eyes and made her breath catch. She'd never seen such pain, not even her years of torture could compare to this earth shattering realization that your brother was the man who was behind all the chaos that was the events of the last month.

"So ya left me! Just like dat! Ta become some psycho drug dealer dat buys and sells children and tortures my best friend!" His voice wasn't a yell, but he wasn't holding back, either. Asylum marveled at Racetrack as he faced this phantom brother from his past.

Blake's eyes slid from Race to Asylum and his eyes, if possible, grew darker with a fury she had never seen before, "You would believe this bitch over your own brother?" He asked in a low voice.

Her best friend put his arm around her shoulders, "Yeah, I would. She nevah abandoned me."

Too fast for either of them to stop him, his fist came out of nowhere and slammed into her face with such force that she felt herself fall backwards. She pivoted herself at the last moment so her right side smashed onto the floor, saving her broken arm from most of the impact. She rolled onto her back and rushed to stand up as Race tackled Blake.

"Go!" Race yelled, making a memory from long ago echo through her mind as she recalled yelling the same thing to Ryan.

Without a thought she rushed past the fighting brothers and out into the hallway. Unfortunately, she wasn't as acquainted with this building as she had been with the structure in Queens and she silently debated which way to turn. Finally deciding on going left and she began to sprint down the hall, praying that luck was on her side.

Except that it wasn't because not even three quarters of the way down the hall a large figure stepped in her path, blocking her escape. She stopped dead in her tracks, her eyes rising to meet the dark green eyes of the boy she remembered from so long ago. "Three." She breathed out, fear falling into the pit of her stomach because while Spot and her had been the best when they had been here, the years of torture and not training, not to mention her arm was broken, would insure her failure in a fight with him.

"Hello, One. I see you've come back." He leered down at her as she took a step back, her arm cradled to her chest as she continued to stare up at him. Asylum did not have any fond memories of him, quite the opposite because when she had been healing and Blake had been out Three was known to come visit her in her cell and he hadn't been a gentleman.

Straightening her spine, she gave him her coldest glare, "I see you've become just as crazy as Blake."

Three flinched because he'd always hated when he was compared to Blake. Grounding his teeth, he took a step closer to her, "I am not Blake and you can't talk to me like that." He pulled back his hand and struck her with the back of his hand.

She took it with closed eyes, grimacing only slightly at the stinging on her cheek before she opened her eyes and continued to glare, "Beating women. How like Blake." The scathing comment made Three roar in fury and he grabbed her by her shoulders and pushed her against the wall.

Silently, she prayed for a miracle that she knew would never come. She'd die here tonight before ever saving the children, before ever really living and before telling Ryan she loved him even if she was crazy. She could see this ending tonight and Three would be the one to kill her. _As much as I don't want to die_, she thought suddenly, _there are worse things to fear_. The boy in front of her, another kidnapped orphan just like Ryan but who had never gotten the chance to escape, pulled out a wicked looking knife as he grinned down at her, insanity lighting up his eyes.

Staring back, she became content to accept this ending, though so many things hadn't worked out quite the way she had wanted them to. "Go ahead, Three. I forgive you."

Three froze, staring in shock at her words. She raised her eyebrows, surprised at his hesitation for only a second before survival kicked in and incidentally she kicked out, her leg making perfect contact with his groin. The knife dropped from his hand as he clutched himself and she pushed him back so she could grab him behind the neck and bring his face down to meet her knee.

Letting him drop to the floor, she grabbed the knife and began to head the way she had been going. As she turned the corner, though, a little body ran into her legs. "'Sy!" The boy exclaimed, throwing his arms around her.

"Fang!" She cried out in terror, "What are you doing here?"

He took a step back and smiled up at her, "I'm saving you. Spot and Jack was makin' plans ta, but dey were takin' too long. I hoid Red tellin' his second where ya were and so I came."

Hope blossomed in her chest at the thought of Spot bursting into the building with an army of newsies. A ragged bunch, sure, but they'd be her saviors once again. "Come on, Fang, we have to save the others."

"Not so fast." Blake's voice said from behind and Asylum immediately turned around, knife at the ready for another fight.*

**A/N: So, I thought I'd leave this here and break the action up to two chapters perhaps three if the next chapter gets too long. Sorry for the jumping perspectives but it helps the flow of the story. Thank you all for giving me so many hits and for the wonderful reviews! Tell me if you were surprised about Blake being Race's brother in a review!  
**

**Truly,**

**Joker is Poker with a J~  
**


	25. music of sorrow

**Ragged Army**

**Summary: Reports of young children going missing has swept through New York City. No clues, no leads to where they are being taken and if they're still alive. Only one girl seems to be attuned to the voices of the missing children…the problem? Everyone thinks she's insane… **

**A/N: Part of this chapter was inspired by the song 'Into the Nothing' by Breaking Benjamin.**

**Chapter 25**

*If her arm hadn't been broken, she'd have pushed him behind her but instead she watched in helplessness as he stood beside her. Fang glared fiercely at Blake, taking in every detail of him before turning to gaze up at her. She met his eyes briefly before turning them back on Blake, "What did you do to Race?"

Blake's eyes were wild, more so than usual. He put his arm out and she saw the dress that was still draped over it. "Put this on, One. Lemme see you in it."

Stepping ever so slightly to the right, she pushed Fang behind her with her hip and glared at the man in front of her, "You're crazy. I'm not putting that on."

A noise from behind Blake had him glancing over his shoulder and she took the opportunity to dodge forward, aiming the knife at his gut. At the last second Blake's hand grabbed her wrist, enclosing around it in a steely grip and she couldn't keep a handle and watched in horror as her weapon fell to the ground with a clatter. Blake twisted her arms behind her back and brought her against him, "I always get what I want, One."

Three stepped forward in time to snatch up Fang before he could grab the knife and tossed him over his shoulder. "This one will do quite nicely." He told Blake as Fang squirmed in his hold.

Asylum let out a frustrated scream and struggled to get free from Blake. It would have been easy if, once again, she didn't have this broken arm. "Let him go!" She yelled at Three, "I don't care what you do to me, let him go!"

_There are worse things to fear_, she thought as Three quirked a dark eyebrow at her. _Fear for those you love_. Fang beat his fists against Three's back as Three began to move down the hallway away from Blake and her.

"Three." Blake said, stopping the boy in his tracks. "Put the kid down and pick up the knife."

Without question, he did what he was told as Asylum tried to push Blake away from her with her body. Blake's grip only tightened as he directed Three to place the knife on Fang's neck. Tears of frustration began to fall as Fang froze against the cold steel of the knife.

"Now, One, all you have to do is whatever I say and I'll let your little pet go." Blake whispered in her ear, his breath hot on her neck as he moved it across and licked her brand mark. She shivered in revulsion, feeling bile rise up her throat at how sick he was.

"What do you want me to do?" She asked, trying to keep the fear out of her voice.

Pushing her forward, he let her arm go, "Kill him if she attacks me." He ordered Three and then put the dress in her arms, "Put it on. Don't plan anything, either, or he dies."

She caught the hungry look in Three's eyes as she unbuttoned the shirt she'd been wearing and was thankful for the undershirt she kept on beneath it. Tossing her shirt, she slipped the dress on over her head and then stripped her trousers off and the undershirt so that neither of them could catch a glimpse of her naked. Lightly, she brushed her fingers down the skirt of the dress and marveled at the silkiness. It was a beautiful dress, far out of a newsgirl's price range, an aqua that shimmered between blue and green as it moved.

Blake crossed his arms over his chest and studied her in it and she suddenly felt as tiny as an insect. "Now that's what I'm talking about." He said, "Don't you agree, Three?"

Three grinned at Blake as he let his eyes roam up and down her. Asylum folded her own arms, wishing she was anywhere but in front of these two. Her eyes caught Fang and fear choked her as she stared at the knife against his throat. "Will you let him go?" She asked, meeting Blake's dark gaze and knowing, somehow, that he wouldn't. He'd never let her or Fang go; not as long as he lived.

Laughing, Blake moved forward and motioned for Three to give him the knife, "No, One. It's the only way to ensure your cooperation." He ruffled Fang's dark hair and then turned to point the knife at Asylum, "Hmm, what should we do now that you're all dressed up with nowhere to go?" He stepped forward and pressed the tip of the blade against the dip on her throat and slowly let it slide down her chest to rest on the neckline of the dress leaving a red trail, "Sharp isn't it?"

She swallowed, but met his eyes defiantly. They stared each other down for a moment before a loud bang a floor below them shattered the silence. Blake didn't even flinch, only directed his next order to Three, "Leave the kid here. Go check that out. I believe our guests have finally arrived."

An image of Spot appeared in her mind as he was the last night they had been together, when they had been fighting; his stern, exasperated look at her reprimanding him for kissing her in front of the other leaders and for her telling him off for disagreeing about her insanity. She wanted to hope that this was almost over, this war; this nightmare. She was so tired of being hurt and scared.

Three let go of Fang and sprinted down the hall as Blake directed his words to the seven-year-old, "You better not try anything, kid, or I'll hurt your precious Asylum. Now, I want you both to go back into the room you came out of." He turned her around, pressing the tip into the small of her back and ushering her forward. Reaching out, she took Fang's hand in her own and they headed back down the hallway to the room that had previously kept Race and her. The lamp sat in the corner and Race's still body was stretched out on the floor.

"Race!" She moved forward, kneeling down at her best friend's side and rolling him over to make sure he was still alive.

"He's just unconscious." Blake assured, but she didn't believe him until she could see the rise and fall of the newsies' chest. Sighing in relied, she brushed his dark hair back from his forehead and stood to watch Blake as he shut the door behind him, as if sealing them off from the world.

Fang clutched Asylum's hand and looked up at her, "Dagda will save us, 'Sy. Just ya wait. He won't let anyone run off with his magical Harp."

"What are you talking about?" Blake asked, glaring at the kid.

Fang returned Blake's glare, "Ya a Fomorian and Spot won't let ya get away with stealin' 'Sy."

Blake's black eyes turned to meet Asylums' golden blues, "I don't think _Spot_ will have a choice."

Gritting her teeth, Asylum pivoted her hips preparing herself to launch at Blake regardless of her broken arm. Hopefully, her surprise attack will afford Fang and her sometime to recover the knife. If only Race was conscious to help, she was sure the two of them could take him.

Before she could do anything the sound of a gunshot startled all of them and the following silence had all three of them staring at the door as if whatever happened would come through it. Fear for Spot, for all the newsies, seemed to tighten around her middle and froze her in place. Unfortunately, the fear that froze her did not freeze Fang and everything happened before her eyes in slow motion; Fang was already half way to Blake when he slowly turned his gaze from the door. The small, light body was launched through the air much as she had planned but the events that followed were not at all as planned.

Staring in horror, a sob ripping through her before the knife had even pierced him; she stumbled forward as Blake stared at the boy now on the end of his knife. Sneering, Blake pushed Fang's shoulder and the seven-year-old fell backward and would have hit the floor if Asylum hadn't leapt forward to grab his small form with her good arm. "Fang!" She cried out, lowering him to her lap so she could press her good hand over his chest, trying to staunch the flow of his blood as her tears fell down her cheeks and splashed onto his face. Blake had to have expected one of them to attack him or else he'd have never had the knife down so low but it seemed he had thought it would be her because the knife, had it been her as it should have been, would have gutted her like a fish.

His bright, green eyes met hers as he opened his mouth to speak, "Spot'll save ya, 'Sy. Don't let da music of sorrow play forevah..." He stopped, coughing slightly as blood seeped from the corner of his mouth.

"Shh, Fang. Don't talk. We'll get you a doctor. You'll be all better in a few weeks." She murmured, brushing his dark hair off his forehead, leaving a trail of blood behind from her hand. Choking back her sobs, she held him close, whispering softly that he was going to be alright as his breath grew shallow and finally…still.

"No." She rocked his tiny body, praying this was all a nightmare she'd wake up from. All her life there had been so few good things among all the bad and Fang had become such an essential part of her happiness that she could not imagine a world without him.

The sobs took over her body and she shook as she remembered the first time they'd met. He had won his first game of marbles and had gone around the bunk room, trying to tell anyone about the game but none of the boys had paid him any mind; often times the younger ones were neglected, though unintentionally. She had only been at the lodging house a month, slowly healing from her wounds and still shy around so many boys, but she had noticed the cute kid with those bright eyes in the corner of the room, detached and moping at the lack of attention and she had taken pity on him. Shuffling over, she sat down on the nearby bed and tilted her head gently to the side, "How did you beat the others?" She had asked.

It had only taken a moment for him to get over the shyness and then he had launched into the tale with such embellishment it had sent her laughing, which had been painful with her wounds but well worth it when, from then on, he had been at her side no matter what. No one since her mother had loved her so unconditionally and had asked for nothing but love in return until Fang had come along.

"Get up." A voice commanded, breaking through her memories and bringing her crashing back into reality.

Raising her head she stared up at Blake and felt hatred she had never known flood through her veins and she gently set Fang's body aside to stand and face the crazy man before her head on.

For a moment they stared each other down and then she spit in his face.*

**A/N: Please, don't hate me for this chapter...  
**

**Truly,**

**Joker is Poker with a J~  
**


	26. Room 27

**Ragged Army**

**Summary: Reports of young children going missing has swept through New York City. No clues, no leads to where they are being taken and if they're still alive. Only one girl seems to be attuned to the voices of the missing children…the problem? Everyone thinks she's insane… **

**A/N: It was brought to my attention that Spot didn't act Spot enough in Chapter 19, so I revised it and if you'd like go back and read it! Enjoy!**

**Chapter 26**

*There were a lot of Blake's men waiting for them which didn't surprise Spot; Blake had given him the means to find the building. This meant that their original plan of Red trying to sell a kid to Blake to gain access to the old asylum had been detected almost immediately causing them to switch to plan B, soaking the bums first and asking questions later.

It was slow going at first because they had to get all the newsies in through the front door but once inside they spread out like wildfire, attacking Blake's men and hurrying to find where the missing children were. Spot watched Cheese take off down a corridor, no doubt looking for Chance. Landing a blow into the gut of an attacker, Spot dodged around him and took off down another hallway, looking for room twenty-seven.

Stopping to peer at the number on the closest door, he jumped when a loud bang echoed down the hall. Glaring, he met Ruckus's gaze, "Ya tryin' ta make it easy foah Blake ta find us?"

"Sorry, Spot. Ise had ta shouldah da door open and it banged against da wall." He replied, shrugging sheepishly. He was infamously known for causing loud commotions and that was how he'd come to get his nickname.

Rolling his eyes, Spot started down the hallway, "Dat's door numbah two." He paused at the irony of finding the first door with his number, "Ise think she might be on da second floor."

Another one of Blake's henchmen came down a side hallway and Ruckus nodded to Spot turning to the guy to deliver a nice blow to the man's face while the Brooklyn Leader continued on alone. Reaching the end of the hallway, Spot started up the stairs just as a figure started down. Realizing he had the disadvantage but had yet to be noticed, he quickly dodged back down and around the corner to wait for the person.

It only took a moment and then the guy was rounding the corner into Spot's waiting fist. Stumbling back, the guy grabbed his now bleeding nose and his dark green eyes sparked in anger as they met Spot's cool blue ones.

Sneering around his hand, Three chuckled, "Well, if it ain't Two. What is it ya called now? Spot Collins?"

"Conlon." He replied shortly, "And Ise see ya nevah wised up and left Blake. Enjoyin' torturin' children?"

"It's funny ya think ya know what's goin' on here. Toturin' was only evah resoived foah One and some of da more…difficult 'students'." Three gave a chilling grin and advanced towards Spot. "Blake says ya comin' ta save her."

Spot slowly pivoted so that he could be in a defensive fighting stance and eyed the boy in front of him. He had been taken in only months after a young Ryan had been branded, had been raised the same with the one exception –he had never escaped this hell. Two people on the same path but circumstances had given Spot Mina, and a chance to escape to a better life. What would have happened if the roles had been reversed, he wondered. Would he be here, defending Blake while Three lead the newsies to save Mina? _Never_, his subconscious screamed, _you would not have let them control you; you are not a puppet to be managed by others. _"What are ya tawkin' about, torturin' isn't what he's up ta?"

Three ignored the question, calmly analyzing Spot, "You won't save her. He'd die before letting her get away again."

"That's kinda da idea." Spot remarked, smirking slightly.

Narrowing his eyes, he took one more step forward, "_I_ won't let you take her. She's mine."

Spot couldn't stop the snarky laugh from escaping, "Ya wrong there, buddy."

Three gave an inhuman growl and launched himself at Spot, but Spot was ready for him. He hadn't planned it, it had been a knee jerk reaction really, but he found his hand gripping the pistol tightly as he pulled it out and aimed it at the guy that could have been him had things gone a little differently.

But it was an image of Three forcing himself on Mina that had him pulling the trigger without regret.

He stumbled back, his face caught in an expression of surprise as the gunshot gave a few last echoes in the silence. Spot watched with a blank face as Three choked on what he was trying to say before he crumpled to the ground, blood beginning to pool fast around his body.

For a moment Spot just stood there, waiting to see if he would get up. He'd seen people die before, you couldn't grow up on the harsh, Brooklyn streets without seeing a few deaths, and he'd been indirectly involved in several others; not to mention the couple of guys he had to take out himself to become the Brooklyn Leader. Slowly, he lowered his arm and took three steps closer to the body as he gripped the gun tightly. He couldn't fire it again; he needed to save this last shot for Blake.

Slipping the pistol back into his pocket, he nudged Three's body but knew he was dead. No breath of life stirred within him and so, Spot stepped around him and headed up the stairs; it was time to face Blake, time to save Mina and time to end all of this.

**Room 27**

Slowly, Blake brought his hand to his face and wiped her saliva off. "Tut, tut, One-" He began to say just as the sound of something hitting the door cut him off.

The sound of feet stepping back and then another blow to the door had it shuddering and splintering around the hinges. Blake turned his body so that his back was to the wall but he had a vantage point on Asylum, Race and whoever came through that door. Silence fell for only a moment until the third blow had it giving in, the door breaking off from the hinges and falling to the ground with a resounding _crash!_ and Spot Conlon stepped through the entry.

His ice, blue eyes took in the scene. Race laying unconscious, or so he hoped when his eyes caught the small, still form of Fang and the puddle of blood that surrounded him and coated the entire front of Asylum's dress. Dress? He wondered, hungrily taking in every detail of her. It would have looked beautiful on her, and it did, if it weren't for the blood; her blue-gold eyes could almost be mistaken for green with that dress on. What caught his attention, though, was the way her left arm hung limp and crooked as if it were broken.

"Mina…" He began, before catching sight of Blake who stood just to the right of her and he twisted towards him, slipping out the pistol and pointing it directly at Blake's face.

Blake froze and raised an eyebrow, "Hello, Two. Nice of you to join us." His voice was silky smooth as he gazed at Spot with black eyes.

Spot saw the knife in his hand, covered in a dark substance that could only be blood and he felt sickness in his stomach at the fact that this man was so callous and crazy as to kill a child, "Blake." He replied, keeping an eye on the guy who was too close to Mina for comfort. Spot slowly met her eyes and then slid them back to Blake, "I hoid somethin' from a little boidie."

Asylum took the hint and slowly inched away from the mad man and closer to Race's prone form. Keeping her eyes on Blake and his hand with the knife, she listened with interest as Spot continued, "It was chirpin' in my ear, 'Blake has othah plans.'"

His mouth twitched up in a smirk, "I always have other plans, _Spot_."

"Oh yeah?" Spot asked, narrowing his eyes and shaking his head when Blake's hand twitched and he inch a step closer to Asylum, "Don't think 'bout it, _Blake_." Spot added, putting venom into his voice as he said the guy's name.

Blake froze again and eyed the gun in Spot's grip, before replying, "Want to know what I'm doing here? What I have planned for these children?"

Rolling his eyes, Spot took a step closer to Blake, "Dat's what I'm askin'."

Laughing, Blake gripped the knife tightly his knuckles going white, "Desperate men kidnap little nobodies and I buy them. I train them to fight, which should be familiar to One and you. James had the right idea teaching young children to fight, they're easily taught especially when scared, but he had the wrong motives. He used you two as entertainment, a kid fighting ring. I sell them when they're ready to rich folks for ten times the price I bought them. Little assassins at the beck and call of the upper class."

Asylum stopped inching away from Blake to stare in horror at him. What James had done to Ryan and her had been bad enough, but what Blake had planned would destroy so many lives. She swallowed back vomit and wrapped her arms around her stomach trying not to be sick as she watched him stare down Spot. For a moment, she just watched the two until she realized she could _do_ something. Neither of them was paying her any attention anymore, and true she didn't have a weapon but she had been brought up to fight. With or without a broken arm, this was her chance.

Fear curled in her stomach and made her hesitate for only a second until she thought about Fang and how he'd died. She couldn't let anymore of those children's lives be destroyed by this one, greedy man. His death needed to mean something and it was time for her to act.

Sucking in a deep breath quietly, she closed her eyes to gather her courage and when she opened them she was already running towards Blake and tackling him before he could turn.

"Mina!" Spot yelled anger plain in his voice as she grappled Blake for the knife in his hand. Her only problem was that she only had one good arm and she couldn't hold him down and go for the knife at the same time.

Blake knocked her back and managed to get on top, pinning both her arms down and sending pain shooting through her from her broken arm and it had her head swimming. She felt the edges of her vision blur just as a gunshot exploded around them and suddenly Blake dropped forward on her as a warm, wet liquid soaked through her dress and she felt the darkness claim her…*

**A/N: Drop me a review!**

**Truly,**

**Joker is Poker with a J~  
**


	27. her mind

**Ragged Army**

**Summary: Reports of young children going missing has swept through New York City. No clues, no leads to where they are being taken and if they're still alive. Only one girl seems to be attuned to the voices of the missing children…the problem? Everyone thinks she's insane… **

**Chapter 27**

*Dropping the gun, Spot ran over to where the two lay and rolled Blake's body off of Asylum, "Mina." He murmured, checking her for any injuries besides her broken arm. When he found none he moved to scoop her up but stopped when Blake gave a groan.

Swearing, Spot grabbed the knife that the Italian man had dropped and stood over him. Rolling onto his back, Blake clutched the wound that had ripped through his abdomen and stared up at Spot through dark, crazed eyes. He spit out blood and grinned up at him, "You might have her body in the end, but her mind will always be mine." Laying his head on the cold, hard ground he used his lasts breath to chuckle until he grew still as his life stole away from him.

A moan from behind Spot had him whirling around only to see Race rolling over and grabbing his head as he woke up. "Leave it to youse ta be unconscious through da entiah fight." Spot told the boy as he walked over and gave him a hand to help him up.

Racetrack stumbled slightly as he was pulled up but caught himself and looked around dazedly, "Fang! Asylum!" He exclaimed as he caught sight of their prone figures.

Spot shook his head at the first name as he moved across the room back to Asylum and scooped her up bridal style, being careful of her broken arm while replying, "She's unconscious. Probably from da combination of pain from her arm and Fang's death." He gave a swift kick to Blake's dead body, "Rot in da pits of hell where ya belong, ya bastahd."

Race came to stand beside Spot and his face grew white as a sheet, "Dat's my brothah." He paused as he stared down at his last family member, sick at the thought that the big brother he had always looked up to when he was younger could destroy so many lives, "But, ya can't tell no one, Spot."

Surprised, Spot turned his head to stare at Race's face as he began to notice the similarities between the two. Not only the Italian's olive complexion and dark hair, but the shape of his eyes and mouth were exactly the same. Spot actually felt sympathy for Racetrack. "Ya can't choose ya family, Race."

The newsie nodded, before casting a look between Spot and the girl in his arms, "But ya can choose part of ya family."

Spot turned to the door, ignoring Race's remark and throwing over his shoulder, "Grab Fang. We gotta give him a proper burial." He was anxious to get Asylum out of this place and a get her to see a doctor.

Jack met them on the stairs, looking worn with a nice shiner and a bloody lip but no other injuries in view, "Most of da guys ran aftah dat last gunshot." He informed Spot tiredly, "But we got all da kids, we're gonna take 'em back ta da Bronx lodging house and find out who lives where if any have families." His eyes fell to Asylum, "She gonna be awright?"

"She needs rest and a doctah ta set her arm." Spot replied as they headed down the hall where Three's body was. They passed it without a glance and continued on their way as Spot took a quick look down to check on Asylum, silently worrying at how pale she was.

Jack stared at her, "She's covered in blood."

"We lost Fang." Was his short answer and Jack spun around to look at the child in Race's arms.

He ran his hand through his hair, "Only one loss tahnight." Jack told Spot, his brown eyes miserable.

Spot cast a dark look back to the building as they exited and met with the crowd of newsies standing out front, "Would have been much woise if dis continued, trust me."

Cheese was there waiting for Spot, Chance hanging on his back his large, sky blue eyes round as he caught site of the girl in Spot's arms. He whispered something in Cheese's ear and Cheese nodded, "Dat's her." He replied before meeting Spot's gaze, "How is she?"

Adjusting her in his arms, he ignored the question to assume the role as the Brooklyn Leader, "Cheese, take da boys back ta Brooklyn and wait for me dere. Ise need ya ta oversee in my absence, but Ruckus will come with me ta be my messengah, clear?"

"Yes." Cheese replied and turned to assemble together the Brooklyn boys. Many of them cast looks towards their leader and were met with a cold, hard stare and a raised eyebrow as he watched Cheese lead them away.

Spot turned to Ratchet, who had a bruised cheek, bleeding knuckles and a cut on his forehead, "I'm takin' her back ta 'hattan. Thanks foah da back up."

"Befoah ya go, thought ya might like ta see da big rat we caught." Ratchet motioned to his second, who walked towards Spot shoving ahead of him a familiar face that had Spot's blood boiling.

As Clash was forced to stop in front of Spot, he had put the pieces together in his head, "So, da whole 'we gotta get my boys back' was just a trick. Youse was workin' with Blake da entiah time. His 'boidie'." Spot scowled in anger at the idiot in front of him. He was just as bad as Blake if he could sell his newsies ta make a buck.

Clash glared back furiously, "Yeah, and I'd do it again. Dey were just worthless street rats." He sneered.

"Look in a mirror next time ya uttah those woids." Spot replied, scathingly and wished for a moment he wasn't holding Asylum so he could soak the obnoxious bum. "Get him outta here. I bettah not evah see ya around New York or you'll meet the same sticky end Blake did."

Bronx's second pulled Clash away and they melted into the crowd as Spot started towards Manhattan without waiting for Ruckus, Jack or Race. Asylum was still pale and she was beginning to shiver through the thin material of the dress. He picked up the pace, taking every shortcut until he was in Manhattan territory and when he was a block from the lodging house he caught a glimpse of the first sunrise since the weeks of rain.

"Look, Mina." He whispered softly, wishing she was awake for the raw beauty and power of it. Sighing, he carried her up the steps and called to Kloppman to get a doctor before taking the steps two at a time. As he laid her down on her mattress in the attic, brushing her dark hair away from her face, he wondered idly what was going through her mind…

_The darkness seemed to vibrate around her as she wrapped her arms around her body. She couldn't see a damn thing, but she could feel her body; every molecule it seemed as she shivered from the cold isolation. "Is anybody there?" She called out, her voice barely above a whisper as her eyes strained to see even the slightest glimmer of light in this never ending black. "Hello?" _

_She felt like she was twelve again, sitting in that dark cell all alone as hopelessness filled her until she felt like she was suffocating. Back then she'd fall asleep and wake with scratches down her throat as she clawed for breath. Her hand touched her throat to make sure she hadn't done that this time but as she made contact with her neck a light pierced through the darkness and she cried out as it stung her eyes. _

_Her head swiveled to the side to protect her eyes and her hands rose to block the light. A voice that was familiar murmured softly around her, "Look, Mina." _

_As her eyes adjusted to the light that seemed to pour in from nowhere she took in the figure before her and her brows furrowed at the man before her. He looked familiar but she couldn't quite place his face. Walking towards her, he stopped almost directly in her path and ever so gently he reached out a hand and brushed her dark hair from her face, "Hello, 'Sy."_

_Shocked, she stared at the male in front of her, taking in his dark hair and bright green eyes that were familiar but not recognizing the mature face as she asked, hesitantly, "F-fang?"_

_He smiled that lady-killer smile that he'd had even at the age of seven. "Do you like my new look?"_

_Glancing down, she took in the blue pants he wore and the tight black shirt. She cocked her head to the side, reaching out to feel the rough material of the trousers, "what is this?"_

_Fang chuckled, "Jeans. They'll be popular in fifty years or so."_

_Raising her blue eyes up to his green she grinned, "So, what are you doing here? Where is here? Am I…dead?" She hesitated on that last part, thinking about how Ryan would take her death. _

"_No, you're not dead." He instantly answered, but with the other information he seemed to hesitate, "You are in a sort of...in-between. Not because you're going to die, but because I brought you here."_

"_Why?" she asked, having a hard time connecting the little boy with the heavy, New York accent with this man who spoke almost flawlessly._

_Gently, he took her hand in his own and looked at her intensely, "What I am now isn't important, what's important is that I've been given an opportunity to save you. You're mind has handled a lot over the years, but I'm afraid the fight with Blake may have done more damage than you can handle. I'm here to heal you but it comes at a high price and you must decide if you're willing to pay it."_

_She was willing to pay any price if she wasn't crazy anymore. To be the kind of girl Ryan deserved, to be able to have children that wouldn't be terrified of their mother, or worse become crazy themselves. "I'd do anything, Fang." She told him. _

"_Before you decide, you must know that the price is this: you will have to relive every moment of your life here, in this in-between and it will be twice as painful as the first time." His eyes were large in his handsome face but they were sad, "But the feelings you have for others will be twice as wonderful." He murmured._

_Blood drained from her face as she thought of the pain she had gone through after Ryan had escaped. The years of torture had broken her and she couldn't imagine feeling everything twice as painfully. "How will this possibly heal my mind?"_

_Fang smiled, "Don't worry about that. I will hold up my end of the bargain."_

_Asylum smiled up at him, "You're not the devil, are you?"_

"_No. Want to see something?" He asked eagerly and at that moment she saw him as Fang, younger and eagerly asking her if she wanted to see the marbles he'd won. Laughing, she nodded her head._

_She closed her eyes as it got brighter for a moment and then slowly peeked them open. Gasping, she took a step back and stared in awe of the beautiful, white wings that now spread out from his back. They were pure as the fresh, falling snow and feathered like a birds'. They were double his arm length and she nearly cried at the sight of them. "Oh, Fang. You're an _angel_." _

_That charming grin that had sold his papes to countless women appeared on his face, "I'd prefer the term 'messenger.' Angel sounds so girlie." He winked before sobering up, "So, are you going to accept my offer?"_

_She hesitated for a fraction of a second before nodding her head determinedly, "Yes. I'll do it."_

_He pulled her into a quick hug, "I wish I could talk longer. Take care, 'Sy. I love you."_

"_I love you, too, Fang." Before she could savor the moment, she was thrown back into the cold darkness and the terror began._*

**A/N: Wow, so I wasn't planning half of this but it just came out and I think my subconscious is much smarter than my conscious brain hahaha. Thank you for all the reviews! There'll probably one or two more chapters and then it'll be over *sadface* Please review and let me know if this wasn't completely far out! haha!**

**Truly,**

**Joker is Poker with a J~  
**


	28. nothing less than love

**Ragged Army**

**Summary: Reports of young children going missing has swept through New York City. No clues, no leads to where they are being taken and if they're still alive. Only one girl seems to be attuned to the voices of the missing children…the problem? Everyone thinks she's insane… **

**A/N: Be prepared for MAJOR fluffiness. Almost gives you a tooth ache, haha. Also, this is the FINAL chapter. Enjoy! **

**Chapter 28**

*She slept peacefully up until midday. At first she was just tossing and turning, but that turned into restless murmuring, moans and by two in the afternoon she was thrashing, crying and screaming. Luckily, the doctor had been able to come in that morning and set her arm and wrap it tight to mend or else they'd have been afraid she'd damage it more.

Spot pulled the chair closer to the bed, whispering reassurances while brushing her hair back from her forehead. "Shh, Mina." He murmured, watching her face grimace in pain. What could possibly be going through her mind?

Asylum continued shifting restlessly and thrashing. Sometimes she'd get really quiet and just lay there for an hour or so before she began to cry or scream again. He worried over her these long hours that began to turn into days. It was only partway through the second day that she started to relax and sleep peacefully. She even began to smile in her sleep until the evening when she began to grow restless once more.

Race finally forced Spot to go downstairs to sleep while he sat next to his best friend for awhile. She was once again calm and was beginning to gain her color back. "Ya gotta wake up soon, 'Sy." He murmured quietly to her. "Spot's not lookin' so hot with youse sleepin' foah so long."

She shifted impatiently and then began to scream again. Almost within a minute Spot was pounding up the stairs and he nearly tumbled into the room he was moving so fast to get to her. He stopped himself and then walked over slowly and sat carefully on the edge of her bed. Lightly, he brushed her hair back, murmuring softly to calm her down before glancing up at Race, "I can't sleep. Go ahead back down staihs."

The Italian boy was startled by the side of Spot he was seeing and he let his gaze slide to Asylum's pained expression as tears began to seep out under her eyelids. Little by little he was beginning to understand what was there, what she saw in Spot and the gentleness Spot rarely showed to anyone else.

Standing, Race pulled out a cigar and rolled it between his fingers, "Do ya honestly believe she's not crazy?"

"Yeah, I do." Spot replied without hesitating or even looking up.

He shifted slightly before braving the question, "Why?"

Still not taking his gaze from Asylum he replied, "'Cuz I just don't, Race. She's always had dreams like da ones with da kids. Dreams about da future, dreams about da strike. It's not crazy it's…it's a gift."

Race didn't know this person in front of him. Spot had a strong character and most would think he'd hate anything that was different. Most people did hate what was different or what they didn't understand. But, for some reason, Asylum had wormed her way into his heart and not even her supposed 'craziness' would keep him away from her. It floored Race, but he understood now. Spot even gained a lot of his respect for not being like every other person who'd shoot Asylum down before even giving her a chance.

Nodding silently, Race turned and headed down stairs and Spot watched him go, wondering what was going through his head. Most likely surprise, but Spot couldn't seem to muster the strength to give a damn about his own bad boy reputation anymore. He had worked so hard to maintain it but now that he had Mina, it didn't seem all that important. Vaguely, he wondered what he should do now. Keeping her meant giving up Brooklyn, but what would Brooklyn mean without her? He couldn't stay here in Jack's territory, he was a leader and so he couldn't stand aside and watch someone rule. Would she make him choose between her and Brooklyn?

Asylum's sobbing brought him back to the present. Kicking off his boots that he still wore, he climbed onto the bed, wrapped his arms around her being careful of her injured one and held her as she cried.

Slowly, Asylum opened her eyes which were blurry from the tears she'd been crying. Her eyes immediately strayed to the dirty window to see it was just beginning to lighten. For the first time in awhile she felt safe and warm and she turned her eyes to the left to see Spot laying beside her, arms wrapped tightly around her, his breathing even and his eyes moving beneath the eyelids as he slept peacefully.

She smiled softly at his face, it looked so young and boyish while he slept, but she lifted a hand to press against her temple as she felt a pounding headache. The horrors of the dreams, her life, were slowly fading to nothing but dim memories. She still felt the raw sorrow of losing Fang but she knew, deep down, that one innocent life had to be sacrificed to save all the others and if he'd survived they would have never defeated Blake and all those children would still be lost.

Reaching out a hand, she lightly brushed a lock of his light brown hair from his forehead. Had he been next to her the whole time? She wondered. Was it possible he didn't care whether she was crazy or not? "Do you want know why I didn't tell you who I was?" She asked him gently.

"Yes." He replied, startling her. Spot opened his eyes and she felt her breath catch as the vibrant blues met her gaze.

Gulping, her eyes fell as she thought about how to tell him exactly how she felt, "If I had told you…you wouldn't like me anymore. Our short time together would have been even shorter and I was too selfish to let you go just as I'd gotten you back."

Gently, he put a finger under her chin and lifted her eyes to meet his, "Why wouldn't I like ya anymore?"

"I'm broken."

He chuckled, "Nah ya not, Mina."

She narrowed her eyes, "Wouldn't I know better than anyone else if I were broken?"

Spot actually rolled his eyes at her, "Ya so far from broken it's almost unreal. In fact, ya too normal aftah goin' through what youse gone through."

Her mouth fell open and she felt a rush of indignation, "Normal? The last thing I'd call myself is normal. Do you see this?" She lifted her shirt to reveal the jagged scars that littered her body. Most were small but there was one long one that went from her hip bone diagonally across her stomach all the way up to her ribs. "My back is much worse. He whipped me countless times, that long one on my stomach is from glass. He nearly gutted me."

Staring in horror at the marks on her body, he hesitantly reached out and traced the long one.

Tears gathered in her eyes as she saw the look on his face and she hastily lowered her shirt, knocking his hand away as she did it and then she sat up, turning her back to him so he wouldn't see the tears as they fell. "Ryan, please leave."

It was silent for a moment and then she felt him move and disappointment ran through her as she realized that he was giving up so easily. That is, until he walked around the mattress and stood in front of her. "I ain't goin' anywhere, Mina." He said his voice deep with conviction. What he did next surprised her; he got on his knees and took her right hand between his, holding it as if it were the most precious thing to him before meeting her eyes, "Ya not broken. Ya the strongest person Ise know. Ya took all of that shit from James, then from Blake and then ya actually got away. Ya built a new life as a newsie and ya even were strong enough ta go back and face Blake. How many people can say they faced their biggest nightmare?"

Asylum cocked her head curiously, seeing herself for the first time how Spot must see her, how maybe Race and Jack saw her. She'd been nearly dead when they found her, the doctor hadn't had much hope she'd make it through the night but here she was. Sure, she wasn't as cocky as she had been when she was first being trained to fight but that only meant she'd matured; had only been a child then who knew that she won almost every fight. Now, she was older and knew there was so much more to life than fighting. The years of being abused had somehow washed off of her.

Had it been because of Fang, because of that dream world where he had healed her? But, she didn't feel any different. She only felt…hope. Maybe it had all been a mind game. Maybe she'd always been sane and had only cheated herself into thinking she was crazy to keep herself from truly becoming that way.

Thinking herself in circles only made the headache worse, she found. "You…really think so?" She asked him.

He scoffed, "Of course."

"What about my craziness?" She asked, even though Fang promised her she wouldn't be crazy anymore she still wondered if he wouldn't want to be with her because of it.

Rolling his eyes again, he replied, "Ya not crazy. Youse always had dreams of things. Like da strike. Ya remembah dat? And…remember the dream about da house in da country?"

She smiled, "I never forgot it." Sighing, she got a far off look, "The back yard was a field full of daisies and tulips. There was one tree almost dead center and you had tied a rope swing around the branch and you pushed the little boy…" Blushing, she realized she'd told him more than she had before.

"Yeah?" He asked, a small smirk starting.

Ducking her head, she shrugged, "It was probably just a dream."

Standing swiftly, he moved forward so he was towering over her as he once again placed his fingers under her chin and tipped her head back so she would meet his gaze, "Or maybe a look inta da future." His eyes burned into hers before he dipped his head down and brushed his lips lightly across hers, teasing slightly, before he pressed his lips against hers and deepened it.

The feeling that had been in their first kiss surfaced and warmth swelled up inside her heart as she realized it could be nothing less than love. She had known she loved him but hadn't been quite sure if he reciprocated it until this moment. It began to spread through her like wildfire and she was sure if she'd been standing her knees would have given out.

His large, calloused hand came up to graze her cheek, fingertips slid down her neck raising goose bumps until he cupped the back of her neck gently and tilted her head just so he could further ravage her mouth. She couldn't stop the small noise that she made from the back of her throat as his tongue trailed along her lower lip. Her good hand moved to grip his shirt, pulling him against her.

Just as suddenly as he had kissed her, he broke it off. He moved his head back so he could meet her eyes as he whispered, "I love you, Mina."

He smiled as her eyes lit up and a huge grin spread across her face, "And I love you, Ryan."

"Oh, finally. When's da wedding?" A voice said from behind her, causing her to turn and Spot to look up to see Race and Jack in the doorway, Race grinning from his comment.

Asylum felt a blush rise in her cheeks, "Race." She said, exasperated.

"Ya said so yaself, 'Sy, if ya sane when we get outta dis ya'd marry da bum." Race replied, smirking.

Spot lifted an eyebrow at the 'bum' comment, but he was more focused on the first part, "She did?"

Jack chuckled at how red Asylum's face was and she searched for anyway to change the subject, "How long have I been asleep?" She asked, looking between the three.

"It's been almost three days." Spot told her.

Her eyes widened at this news. Three days? "Spot, what about Brooklyn?" She asked, alarmed at the amount of time he'd been away.

A quick, dark look towards the door had Race and Jack backing up and hastily leaving the room. Satisfied, Spot turned back to Asylum as she stood up and then reached out a hand to steady her. "What about it?"

Gazing up at him, she furrowed her brows, "You've been gone so long…shouldn't you go back?"

"I haven't decided yet." He told her honestly.

She tilted her head, "What's the problem?"

He ran his other hand through his hair, "Ise can't stay in 'Hattan, Mina. But, I refuse ta go back ta Brooklyn alone. I…don't know what Ise gonna do yet."

Raising an eyebrow, she touched his cheek lightly, "You didn't think I'd make you choose between Brooklyn and me, did you?"

A chagrin smile pulled up the edges of his lips.

"You did!" She laughed lightly, liking this feeling that they were the only people in the world, "Shame, Ryan Perry, shame."

He leaned down and lightly kissed her lips before pulling back, "Ya mean it? You'll come ta Brooklyn? Cross dat bridge again?" He grinned as he poked at the vow she had broken.

"I'd cross any bridge for you." She told him honestly, right before he wrapped his arms around her waist and kissed her again.*

**A/N: How's that ending for you? I'm pretty sure I didn't miss anything...if I have just let me know haha. Drop me one last review? Oh, and keep a look out for my new story called 'Say When' Not sure exactly when I'll start putting it up but if I keep up at the rate I'm going it shouldn't be long! Thank you to all who've stayed with me! I'm going to miss this story and all of you! But, as the saying goes, every ending is another beginning! **

**Truly, **

**Joker is Poker with a J~  
**


End file.
